I Could Be A Mistake But I'm Still Trying
by Emono
Summary: Hearts are broken, futures are ruined, but love finds its way in the end. Full Summary inside. Donald/Jesse, slash, smut, H/C, happy ending despite the angst. Realistic, casual sex, coming to accept love. All that.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:**

_**Donald has rules for his hookups. No relationships, no kissing, no getting attached. He has plans and a real future ahead of him, there was no room for another person. Especially if that person was five foot ten inches of puppy dog eyes and contagious laughter.**_

_**Jesse, the classic boy next door, wants to join the Trebles for less-than-innocent reasons. He has his sights set on the unattainable beat box and he won't stop until he gets him. He'll sacrifice his morals, his standards, but can't stand lying.**_

_**Hearts are broken, futures are ruined, but love finds its way in the end.**_

* * *

It was never too late to start over.

At least, that's what he'd always been told. That no matter how many things went wrong or how many people turned against you, you always deserved a second chance. It was what he needed and he was going to use this new school year as the marker.

He needed to shed off the skin of the old Donald and begin again, an untrodden version of himself that would take charge and steer his life back into the direction it needed to be. His priorities had to be straightened out. It was time to concentrate on himself, his career, and graduating. The Treblemakers, they deserved more attention than he'd been giving them. His music – God, his music had suffered.

Too long he'd been wrapped up in Bumper and his stupid drama. His tyrannical reign, his dumb choices, his insane notion that they belonged together. It was overwhelming at best. For the past year, Donald had nearly lost himself within the other man's mentally abusive bullcrap.

_This is the choreography you came up with? Hat could do better than this!_

_Please don't tell me this is what you've been working on? You wasted three months and that's all that you came up with? Wow, man_

_Just sit this one out, Donny, you're obviously not on your game today_

It had gotten to the point where he didn't even like Bumper anymore. It had taken him way too long to break it off. But they'd been best friend for three years. They'd started the Trebles together, they'd practically grown roots into each other from how much time they'd spent together. It had seemed natural for them to hook up, an inevitable step in their relationship, but it had been the worst decision of his life. Instead of a fun fuck buddy he'd gotten a creepily possessive asshole who he wasn't in love with. He didn't need someone in his life who thought it was okay to slam him up against a wall and demand to know why he'd been talking to some fan for more than a few minutes.

Bumper hadn't taken it well.

_This summer, man, let's just cool it off._

_So, what? You're breaking up with me?_

_You have to be together to break up. It's just better if we don't see each other again until the semester starts._

_Fine. But you'll be calling me in two weeks, I bet money._

True to his word, Bumper had stayed away for as long as the weather was warm. But with school starting up again and a new year of a capella looming, it was only a matter of time before he had to deal with him again.

With his new self-drive in place, Donald felt confidant in his plan to make this year all about him.

Jesse leaned back in his seat, eyes on the passing scenery and fingers drumming out a beat against his suitcase. His parents were up front talking amongst themselves, once in a while throwing a word to him about how proud they were or how much they'd miss him.

College. He blew out a long breath, tilting his head back a bit. It was a big change for him. He'd be out of the house and responsible for himself for the first time. He'd never slept more than thirty miles from his house before. He couldn't tell if his stomach was light from nerves or excitement, a heady dose of both swirling there.

His dad flicked through his mixed CD, settling on _Carry On My Wayward_ son. Jesse started to half-heartedly sing along, every third word spilling from his lips as he took in the sights.

They pulled into the campus and it was amazing. He'd only seen it once but it had been at the tail end of spring, his allergies stinging his eyes and making his nose run through the entire tour. The grounds had all but been abandoned at the time and now it was crawling with life, alive with laughter and fully flourishing trees.

The car stopped to let a thick thrall of students through, all of them piled with suitcases and boxes for their dorms.

If he'd blinked, he would've missed him.

There was a man leaning against a tree just on the side of the road, eyes and fingers busy on his phone. He was tall and slim, looking for every intent and purpose like the center of the world. Calm, a focal point in the chaos around him. Uncaring of the commotion. The wind picked up and the clouds shifted, sun spilling over the other like the heavens were highlighting him and this moment. His hair was like fresh ink and shiny, the sun giving it an ethereal blue sheen like nothing he'd ever seen. His dark rimmed glasses did a good job of hiding his eyes, giving him a mysterious air. He was like a caramel skinned demi-god, a hipster Helios.

A really hot dude who he needed to get the attention of right now.

Jesse rolled down the window and picked up the song stronger than before, letting the music and his voice pour out.

"_Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season_," Jesse sang out, ignoring the look his mom was giving him, "_And if I claim to be a wise man, well, it surely means that I don't know._"

The mystery man raised his head and caught his first glimpse of impossibly starless eyes.

"_On a stormy sea of moving emotion. Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean_," he voiced loudly, putting everything he had in it, "_I set a course for wings of fortune, but I hear the voices say! _Whow!"

He belted out the air guitar, rocking it for all it was worth. His Helios smiled, small but true, and it was like he was seeing unfiltered sunlight. Like he was feeling it on his skin for the first time. It made him tingle down into his bones, recharging him and wiping out any tension he felt about the new year. That little gesture was hard-earned and it felt better than any trophy he'd ever won.

His dad practically slammed on the gas, smacking him against the seat.

Even sprawled across the seat, he couldn't stop smiling.

Donald's eyes followed the silver car, lips still turned up when he heard the boy inside it cry out as he was tossed around. The sound of Kansas slowly slipped away, the vehicle winding itself through the grounds and wayward students.

A shoulder brushed his, "Who's that?"

Donald was proud of himself for not jumping up into the tree like a startled cat, "We need to get you a bell or something man."

Bumper quirked an eyebrow at him, "I totally snuck up on you."

"Nope."

"You were scared shitless."

He turned his attention back to the mobile in his hands, "Don't think so."

"So?"

"Mm?"

"Seriously, though," some of the humor bled out of his voice, "Do you know him or something?"

Donald tapped out a text to his friend in New York, half a mind still on the cute boy, "No, but I want to."

"Some little lip-syncer in the back of a car? _Please_," Bumper pressed closer, fingers dancing over the back of his friend's belt and trailing up under his shirt a bit, "I think you have better things to think about."

Donald let out an ugly snort, "Like what?"

"Like me."

"Like whatever," Donald snapped his phone shut and slid I into his pocket, side-stepping away from the touch and starting back toward the Treblemaker house. There was a shuffle of sneakers on grass before a hand curled around his wrist and stopped him. It was tight enough to hurt but he didn't dare show it on his face.

Dark lips pursed, "No, Allen, we're not doing this."

"Doing what?"

Donald turned to fix him with a glare, "I told you we were done and I meant it. Let me go before I decide to bite you."

"Ooo, is that a promise?"

Donald resisted the urge to jab him in the ribs, "You are so fucking weird."

"You love me, I'm amazing," Bumper said with more conviction than he had any right to. The darker skinned boy tugged his hand loose from the other's slackened grip and continued across the lawn, slowing down only when his shoes hit sidewalk.

Bumper was still on his heels.

"Come on, Donny-baby, don't be like that," the older boy walked backward beside him, cheeks puffed out like he was the irritated one, "I'm sorry I grabbed you too hard."

Donald ignored him. Bumper sounded exasperated and that pissed him off.

"I texted and left you like a hundred voicemails to tell you I've changed. Look at me – I'm being nice," Bumper declared proudly, trailing off in a whine when the slighter boy wouldn't even slow down, "Stop ignoring me! That's so _boring_. You didn't talk to me all summer."

A lecherous grin pulled his lips, "Which is surprising because you usually can't go more than a week without a good fuck. We have a lot of catching up to do."

"You're vulgar as fuck, you know that?" he sounded curt even to his own ears.

Bumper realized his mistake too late, tripping up so hard he smacked into the nearest brick pillar, "Donny, dude, I was teasing."

"I'm going back to my room, B," Donald quickened his step, digging out his iPod and earphones as he walked.

The white boy seemed to perk up, "Cool."

"Alone!" he called over his shoulder, leaving him behind. He scrolled through his iPod until he found the C's, clicking on a song he'd never actually selected before. The opening lines poured through the buds, filling up his head.

_Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done.._

The day had been going by in a blur for Jesse. Benji was great. A little off-the-beaten-path, but a nice guy who he looked forward to rooming with. They agreed to head out onto the quad to check out the club fair, each booth more colorful and impressive than the last. It seemed to be a pretty open campus, the Gay-Straight Alliance booth attracting a large crowd while a couple of girls rolled around on the grass nearby showing just what hands were made for.

It seemed like he wasn't the only one full of first day excitement.

"Follow me," Benji threw his chin toward a group of guys gathered around a low wall by some steps, singing in harmony a capella style, "There's only one group on this campus worth joining. When it comes to Bardon, that's what being a man is all about."

"Huh, they're pretty good," Jesse observed fairly.

"The Treblemakers," Benji was completely star-struck, "The rock stars of a capella, the messiahs of Bardon."

He paused, "Well...besides athletes, frat boys, or any actual cool people."

"It's not so bad," the older boy bobbed his head along to the beat they were creating, "Actually, it's kind of great. Organized nerd singing, who knew?"

"I know, it makes so much sense," Benji agreed, tapping his shoulder, "How's your voice?"

"Decent," Jesse replied modestly, "Yours?"

"Same," though he didn't sound as sure, "I think I'm going to go introduce myself."

The Treblemakers ended their number on a strong note, cutting off cleanly. Benji kept talking about how he'd tried to talk to them before and failed but Jesse couldn't hear him over the sound of his own realization. There amongst the Trebles was his dark haired Helios, busy on his phone again and oblivious of anything beyond his screen.

"Okay, I'm going to do this," Benji finally stated, bringing himself up to his full height, "No need to panic, it's just a normal day."

But his new roommate was already halfway over.

"Jesse? Jesse!"

The older boy shot through the others straight to the wall in front of the mysterious boy. Benji tried to follow by the Trebles closed off, Bumper at the front frowning at him. He stuttered through an introduction, babbling about how he'd seen them perform before and their rendition of _Magic Man_ had changed his life.

The lame in the air was chokingly thick.

Donald looked up at the noise and jolted when he found six feet of good looking in front of him, standing there staring in a way that would've been creepy if not for his charmingly large smile. He gathered back his composure and finished up his text.

"What's up, Kansas?"

Bumper stopped mid-insult and turned away from a crestfallen Benji, "You know these losers?"

"Nope," Donald shrugged with one shoulder.

"He knows _this_ loser," Jesse thumbed at himself, hyper aware of how close they were and how badly he wanted to impress this guy he didn't even know.

"What?" Bumper made it sound like an accusation.

"We know each other," the freshman confirmed.

Donald made a show of pretending to think, "No we don't."

"We totally do," Jesse countered easily, glancing at Bumper, "I sang to him."

The Trebles leader puffed up like a cat and it made their beat box chuckle.

"It couldn't have been good or I would've remembered it," Donald waved it off.

Jesse clutched a hand over his heart, mouth dropping open comically wide, "You're hurting me, like, physically. I'm wounded, I'm bleeding."

Donald finally cracked a smile, "I bet."

"Ha! See," the younger man jabbed a finger at him, "He remembers me. We completely know each other. I'm Jesse."

"Donald."

"Donald," Jesse sighed, eyes raking over the other, "Hi."

Bumper cleared his throat, stepping up to them, "Listen, freshman, pack up Prestidigitation over here and fuck off. This spot is for Trebles only."

"I'm game," Jesse nodded, "We'll try out, then."

Donald pushed off the edge of the wall, getting to his feet, "Really?"

"Does being in the Trebles mean we get to spend time together?" Jesse inquired daringly, getting a rude sound from the Treblemakers leader.

"It's kind of inevitable," Donald admitted, "You get in and it'll be like every day, man."

"See? We're destined to meet," the freshman insisted, "I can sing, you can sing. We're going to make awesome music together."

"If you get in," Bumper butted in, "But you won't because you can't."

That threw the brunette off, "Can't?"

"Can't," the leader spat sharply, "You're not Treble material."

Donald huffed hard, already fed up with the other boy's needling. He tossed an arm around Jesse's shoulders, leading him past the others (who were staring _way_ too intently and it was kind of freaking him out).

"Come to try outs, bring Magic Man here with you," he tossed his other over Benji's skinny shoulders, pulling him along, "Sing a few bars and we'll find out if you're _actually_ Treble material. Something tells me the odds are in your favor here."

"Is it my sparkling personality? My wit?" Jesse batted his lashes at him, "My full-on puppy dog eyes?"

"I think – and I'm just going out on a limb here – that's it's your voice," he let them go to push them both in the middle of the back, urging them forward, "Now go practice before Thumper over here has a coronary. Don't say I never gave you nothing."

Benji looked stunned, his stride wooden and his eyes so wide it looked like it hurt. Jesse turned on the balls of his feet and walked backward to keep their stare, still grinning like an idiot.

When Donald finally managed to tear himself away and turn around, he found Bumper glaring and the others pointedly looking away.

"What?" he snarked.

Bumper ran his tongue along the top of his teeth, showing his agitation, "He's not getting into my group."

"If he's got the chops, he's totally getting into _our_ group," Donald felt his mobile go off on his pocket and he knew exactly who it was, "I gotta take this. Try not to strain yourself, B."

Donald swung his messenger bag over his head and settled it at his hip, filing out of class with the rest of the students. He headed down the hall to the double doors, shouldering them open easily and slipping out into the warmth of the day. It would be getting chillier soon, it was almost time to break out the leather jacket and layers.

There was the sound of someone running up and trying to catch their breath behind him.

"Fuck off, Allen!" he fumed, turning to properly tell his stalker off. There was no one there but when he turned to look over his other shoulder it was nothing but smiles.

"Jesse," he breathed in relief, "Sorry. Thought you were someone else."

Despite the overabundance of smile, Donald couldn't deny how good the boy looked. He had a nice tan and a smooth jaw line, clean-shaven cheeks, a generous pink mouth. Subtle muscle lined his shoulders and biceps, his body far from ripped but a little broader than his own, maybe just as strong. He would probably look fantastic naked.

"You remembered my name," Jesse fell in step with him, "We're in the same history class."

"Are we?" he feigned disinterest.

"I was sitting in the back row and you were down in the front," Jesse explained, trying not to sound creepy as he heaved his backpack up higher, "That hair, like, eats light and there was no way it was anyone else but you."

He frowned, "How did that sound in your head?"

"Not as Benji-weird," Jesse made a face, "Anyway! We totally have a reason to hang out now. You know, to study, to learn, to flourish as academics."

"Your chipperness is nauseating," Donald pointed out, though it was rubbing off on him.

"Only for the first two times," Jesse gestured toward his head, like his personality was physically visible, "I've been told you get used to it."

He was starting to feel a little flirty and he knew it was time to cut it off, "Listen, we can't talk until after try-outs. It's a conflict of interest and I'm-"

"Are you're saying we're going to talk?" the freshman cut in, "To each other? With our mouths? That sounds kind of intimate, I don't know."

"I hear you get used to it," Donald teased, provoking a belly laugh from the younger man.

Donald hadn't realized how far they'd strayed from the pavement until they came to a drop off, a few feet above the sidewalk. A familiar brunette was waiting there, the books weighing down his drawstring bag revealing he'd just come out of class himself.

"What are you doing?" Bumper demanded, voice low and forcibly calm.

Donald made a face at him, "I'm going back to the house, you got a problem with that?"

The Trebles leader turned his attention to the freshman, "If you're trying to score extra points by stalking, it's not working. Come on, Donny."

Donald cringed at the nickname, watching his best friend hold out his hand to him. It was a placating action, a signal to Jesse of how much power he held over the beat box. He knew he should swat it away and keep going but it would cause more unwanted problems later on if he did. Reluctantly, he took Bumper's hand and let him help him down. A greedy hand trailed down his back and Donald immediately jerked away. He wasn't proud of himself for it but he walked away as fast he could, leaving them both behind without a word.

Bumper's watched the younger man closely, shaking him up a bit with the intensity of it, "Watch it, kid."

Jesse scrunched up his nose at him, "I'm like – what – three years younger than you?"

Bumper grunted out something that sounded like _whatever_ before he hurried after the beat box, hoping to catch up with him.

Try-outs crept up on them. The ink had barely dried on the teachers first round of tests before it was there.

Donald herded the Trebles into their seats, doing his best to keep them together and quiet. Bumper hadn't bothered to show his face yet and he knew the moment he did all hell would break loose. He had never been good at keeping his mouth shut at these things. They didn't need to make asses of themselves this early in the game, it would set a bad example for the baby-capellas. He took his own seat and snagged his pen and clipboard out of his bag, a scoresheet already stuck to it.

A nasty comment was shot at the Bellas and he lashed out, smacking the back of a blonde head, "Watch your mouth, Greg."

The younger man settled lower in his seat, ducking his head as the other Trebles snickered at him.

"What up, my aca-crew?"

The insufferable bellow could only be one person.

"And the prodigal leader returns," Donald uttered distastefully, raising his voice as the older boy squeezed past him, "Bumper, my man!"

They bumped fists, his leader settled in the seat beside him, "So, what are we looking for today?"

"Ideally? Your back-up and another background," Donald replied, not even surprised by the fact he didn't know what they needed, "Any two will do though."

"I could do back-up?" Greg put out tentatively.

Donald lowered his clipboard to get a proper look at the blonde, "What?"

"Nothing," the blonde squeaked, going so low in the seat that he was nearly laying down.

The announcements were made and Donald tried to tune out Bumper's snide comments, only tuning back in when Justin came up with a handful of folders.

"Slim pickings," he griped, rifling through them with quick fingers. He stopped when an increasingly familiar smile came up, thumbnail tapping the edge of the picture as he read over the details. Played guitar, sang in choir, but no real modern singing experience. Donald liked to think himself attuned, and he'd heard Jesse talk enough to know his voice would sound good. How good he wasn't sure.

"No, no, no," Bumper plucked the file out of his hands, "There's no way I'm letting this wanna-be theater kid in."

"We're _all_ theater kids," Donald grabbed it back, tucking it protectively to his chest, "If I have to sit here and listen to a dozen people belt out this cluster-fuck song, you can bare Jesse singing it."

The brunette grit his teeth, "I don't have to do shit."

"You do if you want to keep winning," he pointed out smugly, knowing by the set of his best friend's shoulders that he'd won. Bumper kept grinding out excuses and complaints but eventually settled down.

The auditions went by in a blur after that, one voice after another belting out Kelly Clarkson. Bumper had only chosen it because he knew how much Donald hated her music. He kept his ears open for the rest of the Trebles opinions on each performer, making notes for not only their candidates but those of their competition. Bumper would be quizzing him later because Heaven forbid their fearless leader write a thing down or bother to remember it.

Unicycle made a sound at the base of his throat, reaching across Bumper and tapping the beat box on the shoulder, "Hey, dude, it's that guy. Right? That one from before?"

Bumper snapped his teeth at him and the man withdrew his arm, "Whoa, sorry."

Donald raised his head, searching the stage. There was Jesse in a long sleeved blue shirt that looked amazing with his skin, softening up his appearance and making him look even younger under the bright lights. Once he saw Donald looking he seemed to relax a bit.

"Go ahead," Donald urged, sitting up straighter and giving the boy all his attention.

He started and everyone went quiet, every ear in the room tuned in. His voice was..._lovely_ was such a girly word but it fit the freshman perfectly. Right next to adorable. His range and the richness of his tone was a refreshing different from the others, a legato pallet cleanser. His hands were fiddling and twisting in front of his chest, the only nervous gesture he allowed himself. Despite the difference, Donald could see how broad his palms were. They were bigger than his own, at least. He tried to keep himself from imagining anything too serious in front of everyone but a stray thought slipped past his iron control, a simple sensation of those hands resting on his shoulders and sliding down to touch his collarbone. He squirmed in his seat.

Just when he thought he had a tight lid on it, Jesse sang out his first complicated trill. The clean sound of it sent a rush of heat to his groin, his underwear rubbing wrong across his sensitive skin. His palm came down to subtly adjust himself, giving his hardening flesh a bit more room as the boy's voice fueled his desire. This was the first time _singing_ had made him hard.

Bumper's hand crept over and along his knee, fingers curling and squeezing to try and take his eyes away from the freshman. It slid higher the longer he ignored it, the bend of his thumb just brushing the bulge in the material. It sent a different kind of tingle through the beat box, the kind that got his hand swatted away.

He managed to look away from Jesse long enough to see his friend staring daggers into him, "No."

"Yes."

"I think he's good," Hat whispered loudly.

Bumper kicked the back of his chair, "I didn't ask you, did I?"

Donald stood in front of the door. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, the ache in his converse told him it was longer than he would've admitted to. He straightened his jacket and smoothed out his hair as best he could without a mirror, going over what he wanted to say. No need to blow it in front of the freshman.

_Blow it_, he made a face at that, _There's nothing to blow. I'm just telling him he got in, that's it. No more flirting, he isn't worth it_.

He forced himself to knock, squashing down the urge to bolt.

The door opened up and it was Benji standing there, looking so small inside a dark cloak of some sort. It took him a moment to realize what it was but a glimpse of the poster on the wall behind him put the pieces into place.

"Ah, Sith cape," Donald nodded in approval, "Not my first choice, but you kind of work it in a strictly don't-go-outside kind of way."

"Donald," the kid's voice had that same high-pitched tone he'd used when saying Bumper's name.

"O-kay," he drew out, "Is Jesse here?"

"Jesse? Right, _Jesse_," the second time he called the name out behind him, "Donald's here for you."

There was the sound of muffled music, like headphones being pulled out, "Sorry, man, what?"

Benji turned away from the Treble and pointed toward the cracked door, "Donald."

"Donald? Like here? Right there?"

A stack of something fell over and there was a thump.

Benji kind of flinched, "I _just_ stacked those."

"Sorry, I'll do it again in a minute," Jesse rushed out, yanking open the door to reveal his flushed appearance and the rest of the room, "Donald, hi."

"Hi," Donald cast a look around the dorm, "Nice display. Very extensive."

Benji certainly wouldn't admit to squealing but there was no other word for the little sound he made.

"Not that I'm not thrilled to have you two stand here and repeat my name like it's going to summon another me or something, but I came here for a reason," Donald tried to clear the awkwardness but the two roommates were in fact staring in a rather unsettling way, "You made into the Trebles, Kansas. Congratulations. This is me contacting you...you know, _directly_. So, yeah."

The magician's stare became more expecting.

"Benji, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "Applebaum."

"You didn't make it, man, I'm sorry," he hated the way the younger boy seemed to crumple, "You have a good voice but it's really up to the guys who gets in. I voted yes, but...yeah."

He shut his mouth and let the boy rebuild himself to keep his dignity, his face a complacent mask.

"I understand," Benji tried to smile as he playfully punched Jesse in the arm, "Good job, roomie."

"Thanks," Jesse was trying to hide his excitement, "But they liked your voice! That's awesome. I told you!"

Benji kept on his half-hearted smile as he turned and went back to his stickered laptop and desk. Donald took this moment to leave, heading down the hall as quickly as he could. He was too busy scolding himself on the terrible idea to hear Jesse calling his name. The freshman quickly chased him down, cutting him off with a quick turn.

"I really made it?"

"Yep," Donald tried to walk around him by the boy was fast, "Okay, I'll bite. What?"

Jesse wet his lips before singing out softly, "_Hey, I just met you, and this crazy_-"

"No," Donald smothered his laughter as best he could.

"I just want your number," Jesse full-on pouted, "I'm not asking for a body part, just a couple of digits. Preferably in the right order."

"You don't need my number," Donald insisted, once more trying to step aside but getting blocked off with ease, "I don't give my number to strangers."

"We're not _strangers_, what an ugly word. We're practically besties," Jesse protested passionately, "What if I have questions? Suggestions? Complaints? Praises? What am I going to do? Where will I go? To Bumper? I don't think so."

Donald grabbed out the pen he'd used at try outs and clicked it open, holding out his hand. Jesse was about to protest about his lack of paper when he caught on, pulling up his sleeve and giving his arm instead. Donald grabbed the younger man's wrist and pulled it closer, baring a white expanse of forearm. And despite his wish to get the hell out of this whole situation, his fingers were slow on writing out all seven digits. He got a thrill out of the way the black ink bled and sunk into Jesse's pale skin, staining him. His own dark digits looked good wrapped around his wrist, the boy a good mix of soft and firm from fingers to jaw.

Jesse's breath hitched a few times, showing that he wasn't the only one affected. When Donald finally pulled away he dared to look the boy in the eyes, discovering them blown and his lower lip clamped between his teeth.

"There," he announced like he'd done something greater than write his number on his arm.

Jesse couldn't seem to look away, "Thanks."

"I'm leaving now," Donald slowly walked around him, he didn't move, "I'll see you later."

"Yeah."

Jesse came back to the room and shut the door behind him, slumping against the wood. Despite the computer on his lap, Benji was watching him with some intent.

"What happened?"

"Oh, Benji. Benji, Benji, Benji!" Jesse floated over to his bed and collapsed on it like a fainting couch, arm thrown over his head while the other laid over his stomach, "He's amazing."

"You've talked twice," Benji reminded him.

"We made a connection," Jesse held up his arm and stared at the dark numbers longingly, "Our eyes met across the campus, I sang, he smiled...it was instant and amazing."

"This isn't a musical," Benji was trying to be realistic but it wasn't breaking through his roommate's cloud of happiness, "You can't just sing to a prince and make him fall in love with you."

"Why not?" Jesse gushed, feeling so light-headed that he thought he could pass out any moment, "People fall in love every day. Why not that day? Why not this one?"

"I give up," Benji tossed his hand up in a gesture of surrender, "He seems nice."

"I think he is," the brunette cradled his arm back to his chest, lashes fluttering as he thought of how the older boy had held his arm still, "Even if he's not, I don't think I care."

"Way better than Bumper," Benji grumbled, eyes back on his Facebook.

"You want me to smother him while I'm here?" Jesse asked, "Cause I will."

"No, it's okay, I understand," Benji half-lied, "I come off...wrong, sometimes."

"Doesn't mean you're any less amazing," Jesse promised, sitting up, "You know who else is amazing?"

Benji cracked a real smile, "I can guess."

"He's got this hair," Jesse seemed to drown in remembrance, "And these eyes – and this smile. I've only seen it once, but – _ugh_."

Benji just nodded along until he realized what he'd said, "Did you just reference _Aladdin_?"

"It's appropriate, don't you think?"

"More like racist."

Jesse got the text to meet the Trebles at the frat house that evening. He'd spent way too long picking out his outfit and had made Benji promise to have fun while he was gone. It took longer to find it in the growing darkness of the campus but his nerves fueled him forward. He spotted Donald on the steps, hands in his pockets like he was waiting for him.

Jesse picked up speed, his smile nearly cracking his face as he started to greet the beat box. Something as pulled over his head from behind, a sack that blocked his vision. It wasn't pulled tight but it was tugged enough to make him stop walking. He flailed, the person who'd put a bag over his head grabbed both his arms and lead him forward. His tennis shoes caught on pavement and he practically stubbed it on the steps leading up to the door.

He heard Donald whisper _relax_ and he did.

He wasn't sure where he was being led but he knew it was inside by the rush of air conditioner the way carpet dragged beneath his steps. He was passed off to someone else with a tighter grip and positioned somewhere with open space, shoulders bumping against his own as someone was shoved beside him. Whoever was behind him pulled away but their fingers lingered, trailing down across the curve of his ass. He arched away from it, but didn't lash out for fear it was Donald.

"Don't be so jumpy," he knew that voice.

_Not Donald._

There was a long pause and some shifting before someone spoke again, farther away.

"Well, well, well," fucking Bumper, "We are in Treble."

His hood was pulled off and he blinked into the light, the Trebles lined up in front of him.

"Classic pun," Donald commented, holding out his fist for a bump that their leader returned.

"I know."

Jesse turned to see Kolio standing beside him, looking flustered. Benji should've been there, he could almost feel his roommate's absence in the room. Like something was missing. Fresh drinks were passed around the Trebles wove through them, high-fiving and bro-hugging as they introduced themselves. Greg, Hat (_"Seriously? Is it the hat? Knew it."_), Brian, Michael, Unicycle (_"Oh, I get it, because of the bike. Do you take it everywhere?"_), and Steven. They all seemed pretty cool and he already knew some of them from Benji's rants. They were pretty excited to have new members, it was enough to get wrapped up in it and forget why he was there.

He had just convinced Kolio to go over and talk to Unicycle (_"Nah, man, he probably already thinks I'm stupid for staring at him."_) when he felt eyes laying on him. He rolled his shoulders and tried to shake it off, taking another drink from his cup as gaze strayed from Kolio's meager attempt at flirting to tastier pastures. Caramel-colored, talented pastures. Donald was standing by a small table that had their new Treblemaker gear on it but he seemed to be talking in-depth to Greg, gesturing in a way that seemed to imply a stage. Probably about their last performance. His deduction skills were kind of busy trying to figure out what color Donald's lips were.

"I'm Bumper," the leader eased up beside him, "We didn't really meet earlier."

"I know," Jesse stated absently.

"You know, I run all this," Bumper boasted, swirling the alcohol in his cup, "I get the final say in who goes where during performances."

_Is it burgundy? No, that's too purple. _

"A guy like you seems like he'd want to be in the spotlight."

_Maybe it's toffee. Toffee's a great color, _Jesse made a frustrated noise_, Now I'm just making myself hungry._

"I can get you there."

_Hungry for a piece of that ass_, Jesse smirked to himself, _Better not say that out loud though, little too soon. I bet he'd laugh. Made me laugh_.

"If you're nice, that is."

"Yeah, uh-huh," Jesse patted the other man's shoulder blade, watching Greg walk away from their beat box. This was his opportunity, he just had to be smooth and move in.

"But you've gotta-"

"Yeah, man, that's cool. We'll work something out," Jesse handed his cup off to him, "Thanks again for giving me a chance."

He left Bumper behind, rushing over to Donald before someone else took the spot. He didn't seen their leader crush his cup, nor the worried looks Unicycle and Hat shot him.

"There you are," Donald patted a stack of clothes on the table, "I've got two jackets, two shirts, and the signature underwear."

Jesse's jaw dropped, "No!"

"Yes!" Donald plucked up the briefs and showed them off, _Treblemaker_ printed across the ass.

"Those aren't underwear, those are _panties_," Jesse chuckled, taking them and testing the stretch, "I don't think I can fit in these."

Donald let out a low whistle, "Lucky man."

Jesse took up the jacket next, sliding it on and zipping it partway up his stomach. He held out his hands, turning from side to side to show it off.

"How does it look?"

"Good," Donald admitted, reaching up and running the tips of his fingers just under the hood to straighten out the material, "Real good, actually. I told B you were Treblemaker material."

"Red's my color," Jesse informed him, trying not to follow the touch when he pulled his hand back.

"Nope, blue," Donald made a face at how easily he blurted that out.

"Blue?"

"Blue," the beat box confirmed.

Jesse felt a shiver dance across his arms, "You noticed."

"Nope, not even a little."

"You did," he batted his lashes, "It goes with my eyes."

"You know what really goes great with your eyes?" Donald put out there, "Modesty."

They shared a brief laugh.

Jesse had that feeling again between his shoulders, "What's up with Bumper?"

"Hm?" Donald looked over the younger man's shoulder, finding his best friend watching them, "Ignore him. He's weird."

Jesse kind of peeked around to make sure it was the leader staring, "Yeah, I can tell."

The ravenette was quick to change the subject, "Ready for the party?"

Jesse perked up, "Party?"

Oh, and what a party it was.

The Treblemakers had all split up the moment they arrived, fanning out and checking out the ladies and booze available. Bumper and Donald stood together, as usual, drinking and observing the hoard of their a capella piers.

"I'm just saying, who would be easier to sleep with: Captain America or a great white shark?" Donald proposed. It was an old argument of theirs. They were at the point where they could write papers about it. Like always, Bumper took up his stance.

"The shark, duh."

"What about an Amish man or a squid?"

"Squid."

"Giant squid?"

"Eh, Amish man," Bumper amended, glancing over at him, "See? This is nice."

Donald hummed while taking a drink, "I think they dumped too much grapefruit in it."

The older boy rolled his eyes, "Really?"

"Yeah, man, but that's the risk of Jungle Juice," he swirled the colored drink around, wrinkling up his nose a bit at it, "You take it cup by cup, roll with it."

"You missed this, admit it," Bumper urged.

"Nah," Donald feigned ignorance, "Pretty sure I got like half the fruit in here."

The brunette gave a little growl of frustration, "You're not even listening, are you?"

"Always, Bumper," contempt seeped into his voice, "I'm _always_ listening to you and you are _always_ talking. That's the problem."

"Donny-"

"You want a metaphor to understand? Here," Donald came around until he was standing in front of him, brandishing his cup pointedly, "You are this juice. I. _Loathe_. This juice. I don't hate everything about it, I just really fucking hate grapefruit and it ruins the entire thing. But look at me, still drinking. You know why?"

Bumper shook his head.

"Because it's easier than going to get another one. It's just less of a hardship for me to stand here and fucking listen, alright?" Donald was starting to lose his temper, he reined it in before he continued, "If I listen to you, you eventually shut up or say something worth listening to. That's why I'm still drinking, because sometimes there's a good cup. Get it?"

Bumper nodded slowly, "So...am I the grapefruit or the drink or the cup?"

"You're such a – a - " Donald took a quick drink, "A blockhead."

Bumper let out a startled laugh, "Wow. That's the best you got?"

"I'm tired of using _fuck_, alright?" he sighed under his breath, "I really know how to pick 'em."

Bumper waggled his eyebrows at him, getting a faint smile, "See? I make you laugh. We're perfect."

"As best friends," Donald corrected lightly.

"As anything, really."

"False," Donald stated around a mouthful of dregs, starting toward the steps, "I'm going to get more. You want one?"

"Yeah," Bumper spotted Jesse coming through the stone benches toward him while Donald had his back turned, the two just missing each other, "Thanks babe, love you, you're amazing."

Donald ignored him completely, if anything his pace quickened down the stairs. Jesse looked between them as he got closer, a little drunk and more than confused by the words.

"Uh, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," but Jesse didn't sound convinced, the beat box's cold shoulder keeping his doubt going, "I wanted to thank you again."

"No need, you deserve it," Bumper leaned back and grabbed one of the drinks out of a passing Unicycle's hands, "This fresh?"

"Dude, I just got that," the other Treble griped.

"Good," Bumper handed it off to the younger man, "Here you go, freshman. A drink! To the Trebles!"

Jesse shrugged and started on it, wincing but chugging it for as long as Bumper did. The leader faked finishing off his drink, watching the younger man take down the whole cup with a sour face.

"You're very on-and-off, you know that?" Jesse braced himself on one of the stone benches, one eye clenched shut and voice wrecked from the potent juice, "You're either really friendly or a total butthead."

The leader scoffed, "Butthead?"

"Yeah, sorry, can't really think straight," he gestured at his head, "That stuff went straight up here."

Bumper sucked it up and slapped a smile on his face, "I get that a lot. But I'm a good guy, anyone will tell you."

Donald came back with two drinks, a worried line across his forehead, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Bumper laughed good-naturedly, taking the drink and passing it to Jesse, "Here, since yours is empty."

"Thanks, I guess," Jesse raised the cup to his lips, "Drink, drink, drink until this isn't awkward anymore."

Donald gave Bumper a hard look before hooking the freshman in the crook of the elbow, leading him away. They passed by several small groups of people until they found their own space, enough distance to put them both at ease.

"Sorry about that," Donald started but the boy swayed into him, he had to settle him against a bench, "Wow, you're drunk."

"No, man, no," Jesse denied, rocking on his feet, "The world's just a little crooked. Maybe ten degrees off. No big deal, I'll just hold on 'till it decides to straighten up. What's your major?"

"You really wanna have this discussion right now?"

"I want to have every discussion all the time," Jesse swore, "Tell me."

Donald could taste he lengthy response before he let it out, "I'm going to graduate with a major in Electronic Production and Design and a minor in Music Production and Engineering."

He waited for the usual blank look or sigh of exasperation but it never came. Jesse's eyes just got real wide and he leaned harder on the cement.

"Wow, you're impressive," if anyone else had said it he would swear it was sarcasm but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, "I can see it. You seem like you'd be on the technical side of music."

The freshman just kept surprising him, "What about you?"

"I'm starting out in Composition but the moment I find a school that has a Film Scoring specialty degree, I'm transferring or commuting," Jesse replied automatically, so at ease with his answer that he barely thought about it, "But I can only do one thing with those. Yours are so broad, you're going to be able to find a job in any major city."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Jesse defended, "My dad's an audio engineer and they're always looking for good mixers. I bet you're amazing at it."

"I-" Donald snapped his mouth shut. No one had really said that before. The few people he'd shared his music with were either unimpressed or more interested in his dick. It was his raw, live stuff they usually liked. Maybe Jesse would-

"If I get something together, would you want to check it out?" Donald offered on a whim. Before he could regret the words and hurry to shoot down his claim, the boy started nodding so fast he made himself dizzy.

"I would love that," Jesse said once everything stopped spinning.

"Cool," he took a long drink to get some composure back, "So your dad's in the industry a bit. You two close?"

"Yeah, actually, pretty healthy childhood," Jesse tossed his empty cup behind him without looking, "They're only a day trip away. They didn't want me to come this far but Bardon

offered me a sweet ride. How far away from home are you?"

"Pretty far," Donald confessed, "My mom's some super important consultant in Jacksonville. They moved there after I graduated high school and I've only seen them a handful of times since then."

Jesse frowned, "That's awful."

"We Skype and text all the time, Mom calls every Friday to ask how my week went," he drank to drown out the self-pity, "She makes up for it by sending me an allowance, it's pretty nice. My dad mingles in the bar scene, he likes to open clubs and see how long they last before they burn out. Clubs have a high turn-over ratio, like, worse than nursing students. It's insane."

Jesse's sympathetic look was making him itch, "Stop it or I'll punch you.

The brunette shook it off, swallowing down all the reassurances sitting on his tongue, "What's your girlfriend think of you hanging out with a bunch of aca-nerds on a Friday night?"

It was easy to flirt, flirting he could do, "She'd totally be okay with it if I had one."

"Boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Most guys would get angry at that question," Jesse noted slyly.

"I'm not most guys," Donald's lips quirked up, "I like to think I'm very equal-opportunity."

"Good to know," he could almost feel the other man's fingers on his wrist again, "How'd you find out what dorm I'm in, anyway?"

"I asked," he replied around the rim of his cup.

"Who?"

"People."

"So you have an underground homeless network?" Jesse questioned with a sound of amusement, "Like Sherlock?"

"Less homeless, more my friends."

That struck something in him, "Do you have a lot of friends?"

He could see what the boy was getting at, "I do."

"Sexy friends?" his 'casual' came off more 'snoopy'.

"I like sexy friends," Donald's eyes dropped to the glimmer of his drink, he couldn't quite bring himself to look into that trusting face, "Sexy friends don't want a lot from you."

Jesse's pink mouth tugged down hard at the thought of this brilliant boy sleeping around, "You're a big sharer?"

"More like a big taker."

Everything felt much too serious. The moment hung over them, perturbing and heavy. Jesse leaned on the stone enough to keep his balance as he pushed his leg out, running his calf along the other boy's.

"You seem cool to me," he admitted softly, barely heard over the music.

The lights caught in his drink rather prettily, "If I'm anything, it's cool."

Jesse chewed on the side of his cheek, "Come dance with me?"

Donald finally looked up, "That's not a good idea."

"You sure?" Jesse tisked in disbelief, "Because I'm pretty sure you and me all close is the best idea I've ever heard."

Donald finally smiled full enough to show off his laugh lines, "You're not as smooth as you think you are, Kansas."

"You know what I think?" Jesse pushed off and resettled his hands on either side of the ravenette's hips, bracing against the bench to lean into his personal space without falling, "I think that we need more drinks because my casual flirting is so _not_ working on you right now."

"You call this casual?" he contended, "Because it's coming off a little aggressive."

"Hmmm," Jesse hummed thoughtfully, cocking his head to one side like he was considering the idea, "Like edgy-bad-boy-aggressive?"

He shook his head, "More like untrained-puppy-aggressive."

Jesse dropped his head and pushed back, but when he looked up he was smiling again, "More drinks."

"Fetch, boy."

They had drifted a bit between one drink and the next. They'd found a backless stone bench and plopped down on it, legs crossed beneath them, sitting face to face as they talked. Their knees were threatening to brush but they didn't care, too wrapped up in one another to worry about how it looked.

"Is it a mammal?"

"No."

"A reptile?"

"No."

"A bird?"

"Nope."

"Is it a fish of some kind?"

"Technically, yes."

"Oh my God," Jesse buried his face in his hands, "I've forgotten every underwater animal I've ever heard of. You could have a gun to my head and I wouldn't be able to name even one thing that breathes water. Is it a lobster?"

Donald shook his head.

"A shrimp?"

"Dude-"

"A crab? An octopus? A scallop?"

Donald laughed behind the plane of his hand, "Now you're just naming shit."

"Cheating is the only way I can win this game."

"You're so bad at it."

"I know."

"Then why did you suggest playing?"

Jesse looked up at him from under his lashes, "Because it meant listening to you talk."

"Oh, wow, I haven't had enough to drink for this," Donald finished off his cup.

"Are you kidding me?" Jesse tried to man up his giggle but it didn't work, "It took this much booze just to get that out."

"You should really keep that shit in your head," the beat box watched a friend of his come up, he slapped hands with him, "What's up, man?"

After a few minute, his friend walked away with a promise to text him later. Donald turned to face Jesse again, the freshman was looking at him like he was giving a sermon or something.

"Your ears stick out," Jesse stated, tapping his own, "Did you know that? It's really cute."

Donald dropped his cup in his haste to cover his ears, palms shielding them from view, "What?"

"They're all curved out," Jesse pried the other man's hands off the side of his head, smile growing, "You're even cuter all self-conscious. I didn't mean it in a bad way."

Donald glared and batted his hands away, "You said my ears stick out! How am I supposed to take it?"

"Donald!" Jesse outright laughed, still keeping the older boy's hands away from his ears, "You're freakishly handsome and I'm afraid I'm going to pass out like a screaming fangirl the first time I see you perform. There isn't an inch of you you should feel insecure about."

Donald felt something snap in the air. Maybe it was the tension, maybe it was his control, or maybe someone broke something nearby. Whatever it was made his world narrow down to big chocolate eyes and they way they laid on him almost worshipfully.

"You wanna find a quieter place?" Donald slurred as he tried to sound smooth. The freshman looked startled by the suddenness of it but he quickly got over it enough to nod. Donald grabbed his hand and dragged him off the bench, leading him once more. Jesse was pliant in his hold, letting himself be guided past the other a capella groups to the outskirts of the stadium. The music faded out as they hit a cluster of trees, branches low and full to block out a lot of the light.

"Oh, wait, are we doing sexy things?" Jesse gaped, "Does that mean my flirting worked? Oh, man, I can't wait to tell Benji. _Oof_."

He was pushed up against a thick trunk, bark threatening to nip at his skin through his shirt. He was about to make a quip about manhandling when Donald pressed up against him, impossibly warm in the cool of the night.

"I'm breathing your air," Jesse awed, alcohol shredding his filters, "You smell good. Like a new brief case or our guest couch."

"It's Dana's English Leather, you like it?" Donald grabbed him by the hips, brushing their cheeks in his haste to get a taste of the brunette's neck.

" 'S nice," Jesse groaned, hanging onto the other's shoulders as his knees threatened to give out. He practically melted against the tree as sure teeth nipped and marked up his throat, sending sparks of heat down through his chest to settle low in his groin. Everything was so good and hazy, blending together as he drowned in the ravenette's cologne. A thigh worked between his legs and that was even better, it gave him something to grind against and get some dizzying friction.

Jesse blindly sought out a kiss but his lips only met with the other's rough jaw or ear but he didn't mind. It wasn't weird, they were necking. It was normal, it was fine. He settled for pushing against him as rhythmically as he could manage, hands getting with the program and feeling out the muscles in Donald's back. His fingers settled an urge he'd had for a while by burying within that perfectly done hair, mussing it up and discovering its texture.

"Damn soft, knew it would be," Jesse was getting increasingly breathless as his jacket was tugged open and his shirt was rucked up, "Feels good."

"God, you're mouthy," Donald complained against his pulse point, clumsily working on the freshman's belt buckle, "But you're so fucking pretty."

Jesse made a happy sound and got a hard bite for his effort, the pain nearly making him forget those words, "_Don_."

Donald finally managed to tear open the freshman's fly and his hand slid down past it, catching under elastic and past too-hot flesh until he found what he was looking for.

"Oh," Donald exhaled sharply against the boy's neck, lust coiling up like a fist in his gut. Jesse was the perfect size, thick enough to fill his palm and his mouth. Cut, hard, and eager by the sounds the freshman emitted. Jesse moaned into his hair, rocking into his hand from just the first stroke. It was a sweet sound that left him wanting more.

"Can't wait to get this inside me," Donald spilled truthfully. He didn't usually talk during sex, at least no more than it took to get his partner in the mood, but if felt so comfortable with the younger man. The way Jesse hissed in a breath at his words made him want to tell him everything. From the way he wanted that pink mouth on his cock to the way he wanted to get up on his lap and find out just how long he could ride him until he screamed.

Donald was just contemplating getting on his knees when Jesse started lightly pawing at his hand, glazed eyes searching for his own.

"Mmm, wait, no," Jesse moaned in loss as the solid touch left his aching cock, "That sounds amazing and mind-blowing and if you say something like that again I'm going to lose it, but - "

Donald nipped below his ear and made his neck arch, trying to get him to get to the point or shut up.

"I don't want our first time to be while we're both drunk," Jesse hummed into his hair, the leather scent even stronger there, "I want to remember it."

The sentimentality of the statement turned the welcome weight of lust into a cold fist, sapping his desire faster than Bumper's arrogance. He grabbed two handfuls of the freshman's shirt and pushed away, a strong wave of tenderness and exasperation suffocating any remnants of passion until it was unsalvageable.

"God damn it," he cursed, leaving him against the tree and heading away from the stadium.

"Wait, Don?" Jesse whined, suddenly chilled against the bark.

"Go home, Jesse!" Donald barked over his shoulder, "Just fucking go home."

A haggard _Jesus_, _I should've known_ drifted behind him, and then he was gone.

Jesse stood there panting, a dozen fuzzy thoughts running through his head as he tried to figure out what he'd done. The joyless departure killed his buzz and left him hollow, like Donald had taken more than his dignity with him.

A faint laugh yanked him out of his thoughts.

Bumper was leaning against a nearby tree with a smirk on his face, half-hidden by shadow. His pleased grin was a slash of white in the darkness. Jesse realized just how exposed he was and fumbled to zip up his fly and buckle back up, sniffing hard as he tried to bite back any pathetic exclamation like _leave me alone _or_ take a fucking picture_. He was quick to push down his shirt to hide the reddening score streaks across his stomach, marks he would've been proud of a few hours ago.

Marks that would only remind him of rejection later on.

* * *

Check out all the photosets and the fanmix for this fic and its sister fic at A03. Link in the profile.

Hope you guys liked this! Review if you want to see more


	2. Chapter 2

The humidity broke and the students poured onto the grounds like locusts, cluttering together in study circles and joining up for impromptu games of touch football.

Donald had his history book spread out on his lap, the words barely processing as he went over the baseline for _Don't Stop the Music_. He spit out the rhythm with his mouth while his fingers drummed through it on the edge of the binding, notes practically ticking through the sentences. The events at Stalingrad in World War II had never been more boring. Why had he waited so long to take his basic history credit? A 101 class seemed so trivial in comparison to his other courses.

He tilted his head back to the sky, dropping a few extra high-hats in to change up the beat. The sun was warm across his forehead and cheeks but he was only able to enjoy it for a few minutes before a shadow fell over him.

"You beat box while you study?" someone asked, "I feel like that's ineffective."

He cracked open his eyes and found Jesse standing there, a plaid blanket rolled up under his arm and an eyebrow quirked down at him.

"Probably," he glanced pointedly at the ground, "You wanna...sit down or something?"

"Better yet, scoot," Jesse prodded him to the side before laying out the blanket, urging him back on once it was smoothed out. It went quiet after that, the two of them sitting side by side with the echo of their classmates around them. The breeze picked up and ruffled their hair, flipping a few pages in the history book. They hadn't spoken since the other night at aca-initiation. Neither had bothered to text for fear of what the other would say.

"Listen, man..." Donald tried to start but it fizzed out before it had a chance. He didn't know what to say about his behavior. He couldn't just tell Jesse that his words had made him beyond uncomfortable without explaining why. How the hell would that go? _Sorry, Jesse, I'm just not looking for anyone to actually care about me right now_. He was a sweet kid, he probably couldn't understand something like that.

"Hey, you know what? It's fine," Jesse gestured like he was sweeping away the attempted apology, "We were way too drunk and we stumbled into something we shouldn't have. If you never want to talk about it again, that's fine. I'm totally just here to study."

"Jesse," he watched the boy shuck off his backpack and unzip it, his own book falling to the blanket, "We really shouldn't."

"There's nothing wrong with this," Jesse dug through his bag until he could pull out a silver and brown can, "And there's definitely nothing wrong _this_."

Donald shoved his book aside and took the can, checking the label. _Illy Issimo_ was printed across the side, the tin cool to the touch. It was his favorite brand.

"How did you get this?" he marveled, looking between the freshman and the coffee.

"Hat said it was your favorite, that you ordered it by the flat," Jesse shrugged like it was nothing, "I thought you could use a pick-me-up."

Donald felt his chest tingle, "You asked about my favorite drink?"

"I also learned that you like pine nuts," Jesse pulled out a bag of said snack and set them down, "Which is weird, by the way. And taffy. Like, real taffy. None of that name brand artificial crap that smells like plastic and flavoring. This is the good stuff. My mom found it in the city and I knew you'd like it."

The box of candy came next along with a bottle of tea and his notebook.

"See? Innocent stuff."

Donald was a little overwhelmed to say anything other than a quiet _thanks._

"My pleasure," Jesse stretched his legs out, cracking open his drink, "Since I've been going ass-backward about this whole thing, I thought we could try again."

He held out his hand, "Hi, my name's Jesse and I love movies."

Donald obliged, shaking his hand, "Hi, I'm Donald. I can be a jackass and I love music."

"Then we are going to get along, my friend, because I brought these for when we're done," Jesse plucked a stack of DVD's out of his bag and laid them on the blanket, "_Jaws_, _E.T._, _The Breakfast Club_, _Star Wars_, and _Rocky_. No sequels, of course, I'm trying to woo you not make you homicidal."

"Movies?" Donald popped the tab on his coffee, "I can dig it. We've got a big screen at the house."

"Did you miss my 'wooing' part or are you being intentionally dense?" Jesse teased, getting a shrug, "This offer extends to my room while Benji's out."

He stopped drinking once he recalled what the boy had said, "Wait, _The Breakfast Club_."

"The one and only," Jesse promised, grabbing the white case again and wiggling it, "Top ten movies ever in my book."

"Ah, man," Donald took the DVD and looked it over, "I haven't seen this in years."

Jesse could almost taste the excitement bubbling up within himself, "It's amazing, right? It's one of the most popular and highest ranking movie scores of all time. That's actually what I want to do when I grow up. I want to bring people to tears, blow their minds."

"And scoring can do that?"

"Music can," Jesse proclaimed, "It is one of the strongest forces on this Earth. It has more control over people than we'd like to say. It can make or break media, one of our major economical and most used...you know, _things_."

"When you grow up," Donald repeated, dragging his book back onto his thighs, "That's adorable. Here, have some. This stuff is ace as hell."

Jesse couldn't say no and he took the offered coffee, taking a slow drink. The caffeine flushed through his system and he gave it back, the near-bitter taste lingering on the back of his tongue.

"Scoring movies is a very under-appreciated, underpaid job," Donald pointed out, thumbing open the bag of pine nuts and grabbing a handful.

"I'm looking for the satisfaction, not the money."

"How noble," he popped a few in his mouth, "It sounds like music really means something to you."

Jesse's brows knit over his expressive eyes, "What does it mean to you?"

"Everything," Donald admitted, "It took over my life all of a sudden. One day my brother came home from school and taught me the difference between a high hat and a drum kick, and that was it. I started to learn how to beat box and..."

Jesse was listening attentively. Usually this was when people changed the subject or tried to cut in but he was just sitting there sipping on his drink, more than casually interested.

Donald sat up a little straighter, "The way I see it, beat boxing is one of the most pure forms of performance. It's the heart of the song, more than the melody or the timbre. It can be understood in any language, some of the best are people halfway across the world. No matter who you are, you can appreciate it."

Jesse let out a long, low sigh, "Man..."

Donald braced himself for a smart comment.

"Can I still hear some of your stuff?" the freshman asked hesitantly, "If you care that much about it, your tracks have to be amazing."

Donald tried to shove a piece of taffy in his mouth to stop himself but he only spoke around it, "A movie date sounds good."

"Really?" somehow Jesse seemed to brighten up, lit from within and letting it all spill out his wide smile, "You'll actually spend an evening, with me, alone? Just to clarify."

Donald nodded, popping in another piece for good measure. Not even the sticky candy could stifle his urge to make the boy happy, to make up for what he did. And if a movie date would accomplish that, so be it. Spending a few hours with the freshman wasn't going to kill him.

_'Damn soft, knew it would be. Feels good.'_

"No drinking this time," Jesse rushed to promise.

"Agreed," the sincerity of the boy's offer was getting to him, "So do you want to study or did you come here to feed me?"

"Can't I do both?" Jesse scooted closer, "Let's share the book."

"But yours is-" Donald watched the other chuck the book as far as he could, face completely blank of anything but his casual smile, "-never mind."

Their shoulders came together as Jesse looked at the pages over his shoulder. They fell into an easy discussion over the lecture and topic, their current section over Russia's particular involvement. Jesse seemed to know the basics and kept up well, both of them throwing out some ideas on what would be on the test. Their fingers would brush occasionally in the bag of pine nuts and once along the same piece of wrapped taffy, but otherwise their interaction stayed very PG.

Donald trailed off in the middle of explaining Warsaw (they hadn't gotten there yet and Jesse had no idea besides _Schindler's List_), voice fading as a certain thought flooded him. What the fuck was he doing with this kid right now? Maybe he was giving in too much. Maybe he should've stuck by his guns and kept him at arms length.

He turned to tell Jesse he should go somewhere else to study. The freshman had his eyes crossed and his cheeks puffed out, flushed face showing he'd been holding the expression as long as Donald had been spacing out.

He laughed and his doubts seemed to disappear.

"Sit and stay, kids, watch the professionals this time."

Jesse sat down beside Kolio a few rows back from the auditorium stage, the same they had auditioned on. He was trying not to pout since his companion was doing such a good job of it already, but it was hard not to. It was the first official Treble practice and Bumper had ordered them to just watch and learn. It was frustrating, to say the least.

At least from here he got a full view of Donald. Unfortunately that backfired.

Bumper was all over Donald the entire rehearsal, testing his voice to make sure he hadn't gotten rusty over the summer. Though Bumper's jabs were a little more mean-spirited than Jesse would've liked aimed at his friend, the two of them seemed to have a long-developed chemistry. Donald would pick up on Bumper's key and set it off perfectly, harmonizing in counterpoints to give the other Treblemaker a fuller sound. It must've taken years for them to get that in sync.

"Co-captains," Kolio whispered loudly.

"What?"

"That's what they used to call it on my lacrosse team," the fedora-clad boy replied, gesturing at the two on the stage, "They're co-captains of the Trebles. Unicycle was telling me they started this thing together and had been running it like this ever since. Bumper apparently likes to say he's in charge but everyone listens to them both."

Now that Kolio pointed it out, Jesse could totally see it. The two of them worked as a team with Bumper kind of pushing himself to the front. They made nearly all the same comments on the others pitch marks and mistakes, though Donald was clearly in charge of the choreography.

Jesse nudged him with his elbow, "Do you know who draws up all the dancing?"

Kolio scoffed, "It's kind of obvious."

Later on when the others were filing out, Bumper came up to them with a towel draped around his neck.

"So?" he prodded, "Do you guys get how it works?"

There was something more to his words that made the freshman uneasy.

"Yeah, I'm starting to," Jesse confessed.

"Good."

Jesse wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to hanging out in the Treblemaker house but Unicycle and Greg had made a huge effort to make him feel welcome. They'd shoved him down and sandwiched him in on the couch, shoving a controller in his hands and forcing him to play extreme Wii _Mario Kart_. It was damn near impossible to stay on the road in-game and they'd ended up playing _Who Could Scream Fuck The Loudest?_ and _Who Can Actually Finish The Race?_ So far there was no clear winner in either.

Then the yelling started. It was far off at first, spilling from down the hall, but then a door slammed and everything became about ten times louder.

"This shouldn't even be my problem!"

"I thought we were in this together! You're the one who's always, 'It's _our_ group, Bumper'."

"I told you what to do a week ago, you said you'd do it, I assumed it was over."

Donald came stomping into the living room, fingers clawing through his hair as the brunette Treble followed after him.

"We need a song," Donald whipped around about halfway across the room, stabbing a finger in the other's direction, "You kept shooting me down, you said you had it handled, and – like an idiot – I trusted you. I guess it is on me, because I was so _stupid_!"

"Your song choices are what's stupid," Bumper shot back, arms crossing over his chest defensively, "And _you_ keep the calendar, not me. You're the one who's supposed to tell me when deadlines come up."

"I did! Three times this week!"

The older boy rolled his eyes, "I obviously wasn't paying attention."

Donald clawed his fingers at him but managed to keep from lunging at him, "Bumper. I'm emailing the ICCA right now and I'm telling them we're doing _Right Round_."

Bumper pulled a sour face, "I don't want to do that song!"

"You had two weeks to pick a different one!"

Jesse started to get up from the couch but Unicycle put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back down, Greg shaking his head pointedly. Steven and Michael kind of hid behind the counter in the kitchen, eating their pudding on the floor out of the way and out of sight.

"It's overused," Bumper argued.

"It's a good song, man, and we all know it by heart," Donald contended reasonably, "It's on every iPod in this house. I know, I checked."

"But is it on our level?"

Donald seemed to twitch all over, "Maybe not on yours but it's on ours!"

"We're not doing it!" Bumper flared.

"Move," Greg whispered, grabbing Jesse around the waist and dragging him to his feet. Unicycle slapped a hand over the freshman's mouth when he tried to protest and the two Trebles manhandled him until he was against the wall.

'Trust me' Unicycle mouthed, patting his shoulder.

Jesse was too busy being shocked to voice his need to back Donald up. The escalation of their co-captains fight was mesmerizing .

"Yes we are!"

"I'm not letting you!"

Donald drew back, "Oh, you're not going to _let me_?"

The brunette faltered under the cold retort but he kept his ground, "No, I'm not."

"You're so full of shit," Donald spat, "We're doing it and you're going to assign parts by _tonight,_ you hear me? I'm already working on the dance."

"Pfft," Bumper made a rough scoffing noise, "Have fun with that when we're _not doing that song_!"

"God damn it, Allen, just do it!" Donald threw his hands out, face darkening as his blood pressure threatened to skyrocket, "I'm not doing another girl song! I refuse to make them pelvic thrust all over that stage again!"

"Please," Bumper threw him a nasty smirk, "You loved being on your knees in front of me on stage."

"Fuck," Greg croaked, immediately slapping his hands over his mouth. Thankfully neither heard him.

Jesse expected the rapper to explode at the disgusting comment. Fling insults, catch Bumper on fire, drop kick his face in, anything. Instead, Donald went really still. His expression smoothed out and he just froze. This must've been the normal because Bumper immediately crumpled into apologies. Donald simply waved his hands in a dismissing gesture before walking over to the couch the three younger Trebles had been on just a minute before. He plopped down and kicked his feet up on the table, staring at the paused game like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. His plump lips were pursed into a tight, unhappy line.

Bumper came up behind him and dropped his hands on his shoulders, slowly rubbing out the tension there like he'd done it a hundred times, "I didn't mean that."

Donald didn't move.

"Come on, Donny-baby, you know we're all just stressed out," Bumper's coo was more pacifying than comforting, "We've got the Riff Off coming up and then Regionals, and you're working so hard to make everything perfect. We're not thinking straight."

Donald tilted his head just a little, giving a small grunt when his friend started on a particular spot, "We're doing _Right Round_."

Bumper's fingers slowed down, a hard line forming on his brow that showed that brewing of another spat. A look of resignation settled over the beat box's face before his hand came up, just barely touching the other's hand. Bumper's anger shifted into pride, moving his shoulders a little as if preening. Like he had won the fight. He took Donald's hand and lifted it up, pressing a long kiss on the back of it.

"We can do whatever you want," Bumper conceded.

Jesse caught Donald's triumphant smirk and he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or more confused.

Benji's display glowed in the dark, the computer screen was up a tick too high, he was pretty sure he was laying on kernels, and it was still the best not-date Donald had ever had.

He was stretched out on his belly on Jesse's bed, jacket and shoes discarded and forgotten on the floor. The laptop was perched at the end, projecting better than he had expected in the small room. The overhead lights were off and the overly large bowl of popcorn was settled along his hip for convenience. It was dusted with a red salt that tasted like buttery heaven, he was tempted to get a spoon and forget the middleman. Jesse was sitting up against the headboard beside him, spouting little behind the scenes facts between handfuls of crunchy goodness.

_The Breakfast Club_ came toward to its familiar conclusion. The two of them sang along though neither of them quite had the deep tone of Jim Kerr, the lyrics bleeding away into the narration. In near unison, they put their fists in the air along with Bender. It felt like a small moment of triumph, the pair so wrapped up in the film that they forgot the initial awkwardness of the evening.

"I love that," Jesse put his fist down only to curl it in the bowl of popcorn, "Almost thirty years old and it was still the most relatable movie of my high school years."

"Yeah?" Donald rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, "Which one were you?"

"Probably the princess," Jesse shot him a wink, getting a little grin, "What about you?"

"If there was a glee club geek, that would be me," the older boy shrugged, "The first time I watched this, I teared up like twice. That scene with Bender talking about his dad burning him always got to me."

Donald swallowed down anything else stupid that wanted to rush out, "What's next?"

"You pick," Jesse pushed the stack toward him, "Twice, huh?"

"_And_ we're changing subjects," Donald demanded, shifting through the pile for something they would both like.

"Oh, I've got one," Jesse kept his tone light as he swallowed down the bitterness creeping up in his throat, "How about: What's up with you and Bumper?"

Donald frowned down at _E.T._'s case, "What about us?"

Jesse broke apart a salty puff, "Do you guys go way back or what?"

"Why do you care?" he tried not to snap but it was hard, it felt like he was prying. But the freshman was batting those big doe eyes at him and any thought of ill intention faded out.

"We met our first year," Donald put _Jaws_ aside, thinking back to the year he wore contacts all the time and had the same pair of converse for every day, "I was just taking pictures of the leaves changing on campus and this goofy guy got in my shot. He asked about my camera and my classes and he kept going on about how cute I was. I wasn't really used to the attention and he was kind of overwhelming at first. He got me used to being the center of attention. And he hadn't shut up since."

Jesse plucked the least offensive thing out of the other boy's speech and focused on it, "You do photography?"

"I'm diverse, man, I dabble," Donald waved _Star Wars_ around before he plucked the DVD out and popped it into the computer. He was just getting it fired up when he realized the younger man had stopped making noise. He rolled onto his back and found Jesse looking at him with a perfect mask of sincerity and admiration.

"You are so talented," Jesse breathed.

"That's creepy."

"Sorry," he shook his head, clearing the haze from his eyes.

"So of course he's Bumper and he can't shut up," Donald continued on to cover up the thrill he got out of the freshman's words, "He kept gong on about singing and seeing some kind of a capella show with his ex. He said he'd been trying to get a group started ever since. My brother taught me some beat boxing so I started doing research. I found a few underground circles in the city and ran with them to feel it out, pick up some tricks. When I thought I was good enough I agreed to help him form one. We went through all the channels together, we got all the signatures, and we hunted down everyone we could."

He clicked pause, "At first the Bellas were huge bitches about it and tried to sabotage us, bombing our rehearsals and hooking up with our boys to distract them. We had to win just to get some respect. I mean, we did kind of come out of nowhere, but it wasn't like it was easy."

"It's pretty cool that you two built the group up by yourselves," Jesse glanced at the screen, "I've heard you call him Thumper. Where'd that come from?"

"_Bambi_," Donald recalled Bumper's horrified face the first time he called him that, "He hates it but he's always making so much noise that I thought it was appropriate."

"He's been kind of peeing in a circle around you since we met."

Donald smirked at that, pushing up his glasses, "You've got a good voice an it pisses him off."

"My _talent_ makes him angry?" Jesse was practically choking on disbelief. He was pretty sure it had something to do with the easy way they got along than anything he could make with his mouth.

"And the fact that everyone likes you more," the older boy added, "He may be a lot of things but personable is not one of them."

Jesse poked a finger on the other's knee, getting him to twitch, "I think he's just mad because we're friends."

"He does hate my friends," Donald hummed idly like he was thinking it over, "But he hates everyone so it's hard to tell."

"You two are best friends, then?"

"Mm-hmm," Donald rolled back over onto his belly, "That's a term for it. Why?"

"No reason," Jesse lied convincingly, "Just seems like you're-"

"What?" Donald broke in impatiently, "Why are you so worried about Bumper all of a sudden?"

Jesse shrugged. The moments of silence built up to a full minute, and just when he was sure Donald was going to leave the darker boy reached out and clicked the play button. They settled down and shared the bowl of popcorn more fairly, letting the dialogue of the characters wash over them to make up for their own silence.

A quarter of the way through, "The Imperial March" became the loudest thing in the room. Donald's head started to bob and soon he was humming along, a sound low in his throat. Soon enough he was beat boxing to it, molding the song again with only his lips and tongue. The thought made Jesse's lashes flutter.

"I wish I could do that," he said out loud.

"You? Beat box?" Donald gave an undignified snort as he rolled onto his back, "Dude, you're a singer not a rapper."

Jesse frowned thoughtfully, "Why can't I just be a musician?"

Donald felt like he'd been slapped. It was sharp realization brought on by an almost-accusation and it _hurt._ He slowly sat up and tried not to blurt out an apology. He scooted up until they were cross-legged in front of each other.

"You serious about this?"

Jesse nodded eagerly.

"Okay, I got you. Now there's a couple of basic moves you can start off with. There's a kickdrum," _buh_, "A hi-hat," _tst_, "And a rimshot, or a snare," _kuh_, "You probably do them more than you think."

Jesse nodded, "So should I just go or is there a hand signal...am I waiting on a whistle?"

"Just try it," Donald urged. He watched and listened to the freshman try to mimic "The Imperial March" but he butchered it on the third beat.

"Wait," Donald cringed and grabbed his knee in hopes of stopping him, "Try something simple. Just do what I do."

Donald grinded out simple line after line, the younger man mutilating it each time. He was patient and Jesse was eager so it started to become fun after a few minutes, chuckles lacing into the sharp sounds as the brunette tried to rock it and failed.

"No, no, I can do this," Jesse tried to bat away the look the beat box was giving him, "I learned to play guitar in a week to impress this cheerleader who thought I was an idiot. She totally dumped my flowers on my head at the dance but I could play dominant jazz chords before the weekend was over. If I can do _that_, I can do this."

Donald felt a little pang at the thought of a skinnier, nerdier Jesse getting rejected so horribly, "You're a hopeless romantic."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Jesse winked before he kept trying. It was downright painful by the time the older boy forced him to quit.

"Your lips are clumsy," Donald criticized, "Just tighten them up."

"I'm _trying_," Jesse groaned past a laugh, "It's harder than it looks!"

"It's not, and _you're_ not," Donald put out a quick _tst-ch-tst-tst_, "Do it."

Jesse flubbed into an awkward _tst-chhh-pff-ts_, mouth pulling down in a face that screamed _I did that wrong_.

"Oh my God, dude, here," without a second thought he reached up and slipped his thumb between Jesse's lips, "Tighten them and I'll tell you when they're right."

Donald meant for it to be an innocent gesture, an academic one, but once he stopped talking there was nothing to distract him from the heat enclosing the digit. Jesse's lips were girl-smooth and pliant, cradling his thumb with just the right amount of pressure that told him the boy was doing it on purpose. Their eyes met and there was mischief in those chocolate depths, a tingle dancing across his thumb before he realized the other's tongue was teasing the dip. He almost didn't feel it but it was enough to send his blood rushing south.

Jesse's mouth closed a little tighter and he actually _suckled_.

Donald yanked his hand back, struggling to even out his breath.

"I'm sorry!" red bloomed along the freshman's cheeks as he came to terms with what he'd just done, "I didn't mean to push it. I know we said we wouldn't talk about it but you kind of just – I thought – I don't know what I thought, dude, I'm sorry."

"Kansas," Donald leaned in, laying his hand between the boy's folded legs and groin for balance, "Sometimes you really, _really_ need to shut up."

Donald tilted his head just so so he could place a slow kiss on the freshman's neck. It was warm beneath his mouth, the boy's jugular jumping and giving him the perfect spot to worry on. It had been a while since he'd tasted someone's pulse, he'd forgotten the power trip it gave him to carelessly suck a mark over such tender flesh.

Jesse tried to swallow down a cry but it came out in a small whine, hands dropping to the bed to curl in the sheets. His head tipped back bonelessly, giving the other every inch of him if he wanted it. Butterfly kisses fluttered past the slick bruise and up the rest of his neck, dancing along the line of his jaw one bussed so close to his mouth he could almost taste it.

_Please kiss me_, Jesse prayed silently, trying not to look desperate. He was so close to getting what he wanted and if he screwed it up now he'd never forgive himself. Maybe he could make a bargain. One taste of that talented mouth and he'd give up soda or chocolate, he'd volunteer at the hospital, he'd start wearing potato sacks, anything for just a fraction of what he'd been dreaming about.

Donald tasted that special popcorn salt at the corner of Jesse's mouth and his brain short-circuited. Every rule he'd ever made to protect himself flew out the window. The steely resolve he usually had with his partners bent and curled in on itself, weakened by the freshman's earnest gaze.

It was over in a moment. A breath, a tilt of the chin, and they were kissing. It was the first one he'd had since high school and it was just as intimate as he remembered. Their mouths, their main source of music, open and trusting to the other. That train of thought nearly had him reeling back and high-tailing it out of the room but then the other made this noise.

It wasn't anything overly dramatic or particularly sexy. It was more than a sigh but less than, and if he'd been thinking any more loudly he would've missed it. Just a soft _oh_. Like tasting a new kind of coffee for the first time or coming across an old toy you used to love. It was the sound someone made when they found unexpected pleasure in something. And it anchored him. More than that, it struck a spark.

Donald gave in and kissed him for real, finding that the freshman's mouth wasn't clumsy so much as it was made for something else entirely. One of Jesse's hands came up and curled in the front of his shirt, slow enough to be a question more than a demand.

He was hungry for more.

Jesse let out a breath against the other's lips as he was pushed tighter up against the head board, dark fingers sliding just under the growing bulge in his jeans. He moaned into Donald's mouth and unfolded his legs, parting them in shameless invitation. The older boy took it, crowding in until the air grew thick and all they could taste was salt and their own lust.

Donald broke the kiss, drawing in a heavy breath, "Jesse."

"No, don't," Jesse begged, taking his mouth again. His mind may have been blessedly blank but he knew if he pulled away he might not come back. He hadn't' had enough, he needed more. Call him greedy but one little kiss wasn't going to satisfy him. Nothing may ever satisfy him again.

"I need to say this," Donald barely pulled away, their lips grazing with every syllable, "I'm sorry about running off on you the other night."

Jesse nuzzled into the hand starting to curl through his hair, glowing under the apology.

"What you said...it..." Donald couldn't even open his eyes, scrambling for the right words, "I don't know, I just-"

The door swung open, a scarf-clad Benji striding in without pause. Donald jumped back, jostling the popcorn bowl hard enough to scatter some kernels over the sheets. The three of them stared at one another for a few long minutes before Donald scooted to the edge and fished up his shoes.

"I should get going, man," his voice was calm but his fingers were shaking around the laces, "It's pretty late."

Benji held up his hands like he was surrendering, "No! I can go back out. I didn't know when you guys would be done."

"It's fine," Donald worked on the second foot, "Stay."

"Really, I can go-"

"We're done," Donald assured him, getting up and snatching his jacket off the chair.

"Wait," Jesse started getting off the bed, "We can all watch. You don't have go yet."

Donald wet his lips, the phantom feel of the freshman's lips and the lingering taste of popcorn too much for his shattered nerves.

"I can't," he shook his head, "I need to get back."

Donald squeezed past Benji to get out the door, avoiding their eyes.

Donald would admit to running to the Treble house but if asked he'd never say why. He kicked his shoes off by the door and ducked his teammates to get to his room, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Unicycle spotted him, "Sup, Donald? Where were you, dude?"

"Yeah, D, we had a _COD_ tournament and you know you're the best sniper we've got!" Greg proclaimed, feet kicked over Steven's lap on the couch.

"Sorry, guys," Donald brushed them off, "I'm headin' to bed. Try not to bring the house down around my ears, alright?"

"Will do," Steven promised, watching him a bit too closely, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he called back from the hall, "Night."

A chorus of _night_, _man_ chased after him. He was having a hard time catching his breath and he was terrified it had crept into his voice. He was almost to his door when Bumper stumbled out of his own room, red-cheeked and smiling wide enough to split his face in half. He lurched forward and snagged Donald around the waist, dragging him into a hug and knocking them into the wall in the same motion. Bumper's breath was acrid as hell as it ghosted across his cheek, a big hand grabbing a handful of his ass in a possessive gesture that made his lungs cramp up even more.

His chest was starting to get that long-forgotten shaky feeling.

"Where you been, baby?" Bumper was already slurring.

"None of your fucking business," Donald knocked his arm away and shouldered past him, "You come into my room like this and I'm knocking you out the window, you understand?"

"Baby!" Bumper cried out after him, "I can go all night like this!"

Donald slammed the door between them. He put his back to it and let himself slide to the floor, knees and arms drawing up tight to the rest of him. It felt like his ribs had been shot with caffeine. He hadn't felt like this since he was a kid whose mother had to pack an inhaler with his lunchbox.

"It's not coming back," Donald mumbled into his jeans. The doctors had all told his mom he'd be fine, that he'd grow out of it, and he had. Stupid shit like this wasn't going to bring it back.

"Donny," Bumper sounded like he had his mouth right against the wood, "You know how good I can make it for you. You know how good I fuck you. Let me in."

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Donald smacked his fist on the hardwood floor, "Stop."

"I'll sit you down on my dick and you'll love it, baby. Let me do all the work. All you gotta do is be pretty for me. You can do that."

He caught his breath long enough to get up and make a dive for his bed, fishing out his iPod and shoving the earbuds in before he could hear another word.

Donald laid there with his shoes and glasses on, just breathing and trying to find enough peace to sleep.

_In. Out. In. Jesse. In. Out._

The lights were hot on the back of his neck as he climbed the steps up to the stage. His jacket was itchy and sweat was beading along his temples, making his palms slide along his microphone. The applause of the crowd was growing stronger with each step, louder and louder until he couldn't hear anything but. He hurried to take his position, nerves getting the best of him. He turned to face the crowd to find they had grown from a few rows of enthusiasts to a packed stadium. High towers of chairs and thousands of cheering fans.

The spotlight sapped his strength and breath, leaving him a trembling mess on the too-wide stage. The mic slipped in his sweaty grip and he fumbled to keep a hold of it. Jesse turned to ask if the guys were ready but there was no one there. The others were gone. Panic struck him and he barely had the nerve to look back at the crowd.

There was one person there with him, profile outlined in the growing lights. Dark skin, a red Treble jacket, someone with eyes that swallowed him up whole and made him forget the millions of hungry eyes waiting for him to perform.

"Jesse," Donald urged, reaching out a hand to him, "They're waitin' on us. Let's kill it, man."

He nodded tightly, "Yeah."

Alone in his bed, Jesse's fingers closed around nothing.

Across campus, Donald laid dreamless and face-down in his pillow.

Jesse rolled over enough to hit the wall, knocking himself straight out of his dream. The sound of his and Donald's voice together over the stadium faded out as his eyes fluttered open. He unwillingly came back to his little dorm room with his sleep-mumbling roommate. He rolled onto his back and groaned, he was short of breath and hard from just a dream. A performing dream, at that.

Jesse bit the side of his lip and risked a glance at Benji. The kid was fast asleep, surely he wouldn't wake up if he was quiet?

It only took a minute and the _Donald_ gasped into the room went unnoticed.

After the pleasure faded out he was swamped with the raw _need_ to perform with Donald on stage.

Donald woke up with a headache and Hopsin pumping through his headphones. He picked up on the lyrics before he registered that he was in bed with his jacket still on.

_All of your brain cells rotting from weed_

_You feeling like if you ain't got it, life's not as complete_

_You having sex with every-motherfuckin'-body you see_

_With a past so dark that Satan'd jump out of his seat_

_But still you out in these streets thinking you hot as can be_

_Without the knowledge to lead so you just follow the sheep _

Donald popped the buds out, scowling when he felt the lopsided line of his glasses. They weren't bent but he couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep with them still on his face. He put them safely aside before he dug out his phone, fingers dialing a number without him having to look.

It rang the customary two times before a woman picked up, her greeting crisp and professional.

"Mom?" he interrupted her customary opening line, "I need you to do something."

"_Whatever you need, sweetheart_," there was the sound of rustling papers over the line, she must've been at work already.

"Call my doctor and get me an inhaler."

There was a long pause, "_You know there's a big difference between a panic attack and an asthma attack?_"

Donald grit his teeth, "Yeah, I understand. I just want one in case of emergencies."

"_Absolutely not_," she tisked before her tone softened up, "_Unless you believe it's coming back?_"

"It's not," Donald assured her, "I just had an incident last night and it'd be useful to have one in my bag."

"_Then no_," a creak of leather told him his mother had leaned back, "_Come home for dinner this weekend._"

"Will you have an inhaler?"

"_Donald_."

"Then thank but no thanks," he almost hung up but paused to say, "Love you, mom. Talk to you later."

He dropped the phone back to the bed. He knew better, he should've just called the doctor himself. It was too late now, his mother was probably already dialing up his physician and informing him that _Donald will not be needing an inhaler, no matter what he says_.

Donald sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

No, he wouldn't need it. Fuck it, it was a stupid idea anyway.

Their first practice for _Right Round_ went well for everyone but their youngest and newest.

"Not good. Again!"

Bumper was treating Jesse like a wind-up toy, forcing him to repeat the same set of steps over and over until his feet hurt and his voice cracked. The freshman was chugging water to keep his voice from going but it was wearing down. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing but apparently their leader saw otherwise.

"That's it, I can't take it," Bumper sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his eyes, "Get in the back, Swanson. At least no one will see your shoddy footwork from back there."

Jesse was bent over with his hands on his knees, sweat soaked into his collar and down his back. His damp palms slid along the shiny material of his basketball shorts, chest heaving beneath the matching shirt. Steven and Greg flanked him, not nearly as out of breath. He groaned at the order but couldn't protest properly.

Donald stopped mid-song when he heard Bumper's command. Michael wasn't as familiar with the lyrics as he'd thought and Kolio had been having trouble with his cues so he'd been going over it with them on the other side of the stage, Unicycle picking up the beat for him so he could walk through the melody properly. He gave the sheet music to his fellow beat box before heading over to the stairs, eyes burning holes in his so-called best friend.

"He's mid-spot, Bumper, he's not moving," Donald's tone was unyielding.

"No way!" the senior scoffed, "Not with this performance."

"Dude, it's our first rehearsal!"

"I can't fix _this_," he waved his hand at the overly-worked freshman, "He's off-step and off-key."

"No he's not," Hat protested from the back.

"How can you even see from the peanut gallery?" Bumper shot at him, "Oh, that's right, you can't. So shut up."

Hat snapped his mouth shut with a muttered _douchebag_ that didn't quite reach the front.

"It's like trying to reason with a barrel of monkeys," the brunette griped, "Go through the set again."

"Bumper," Jesse panted, shaking his head, "I've done it nine times the exact same way as these guys."

"I said: Do it again," the corner of Bumper's mouth turned up, "Or I'm benching you."

"Bumper," Donald called, though this time in a much softer voice. Bumper turned toward him with a triumphant grin, obviously recognizing the tone from a time when they were sweet on each other. Donald crooked his finger and started up the walkway between rows of seats, the older boy following him like that finger was under his collar. Once they were out of ear shot Donald wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and urged him forward, smiling until the last second when Bumper couldn't get away.

Donald's face went hard, thumb digging into the front man's tendon, "_Stop_."

"Ow!" Bumper tried to arch away from the pressure, "Hey! Watch the goods!"

"Did you hear me?"

"What? You mean with him?" he flicked his eyes toward where Jesse was getting a pep talk from Greg, "He's getting it wrong, Donny, what am I supposed to do?"

"Stop it, I'm serious," he clearly wasn't listening as he ground his thumb into the other's throat, "I know what you're doing and it's bullshit. He's staying on mid-spot and you're going to treat him fairly."

"I'm treating him the same-"

"Bumper," he growled, hand sliding up to grab the brunette's chin, "Stop."

Pink lips pursed in silent agreement but Bumper was far from happy with the demand.

"See?" Donald flicked his thumb over his mouth, the same one that had been hurting him only a moment ago, "I knew you weren't all bad."

With Treblemaker practice in the morning, the rest of the day was dedicated to school work.

Donald had been roaming the stacks in the library for a good thirty minutes before he found the section he was looking for. It was some stupid book about 17th century poetry and apparently it was too worn to have a proper title display on its spine. All the books were pretty rough on these three shelves and the call numbers weren't in much better shape.

His phone trilled loudly. One hand stayed on the books while the other dug into his pocket and pulled out the device.

"You've got Donald."

"_Hey_," he knew that breathy greeting anywhere.

"Kan-sas," Donald sounded out, slipping a book halfway out to inspect the title before shoving it back, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"_I didn't get to say anything after practice this morning, but I wanted to thank you_," Jesse replied, he sounded kind of nervous, "_You know, for sticking up for me. I know the guys meant well but they're kind of scared to stand up to Bumper. I don't know why. But I appreciate that you did_."

"Bumper's a lot to go up against, he's a loud-mouthed brat and there's not a lot that can beat him down," Donald conceded, nails digging along a ragged brown cover, "All I did was remind him that there's a difference between giving the new guys shit and being controlling."

"_You stopped him dead, man. I thought I was going to lose my voice._"

"Now _that_ would be a sin," Donald chuckled. A cute red head peeked around the corner, hair thick and pulled back in a tight high ponytail. Dark rimmed glasses framed infuriated eyes. She hushed him sharply, finger resting at the bottom of her lip. He blew her a big kiss and gave her a wink that made her ears turn the color of her hair. She disappeared just as quickly as she'd popped up.

"_Does he pick on all the guys you make out with or am I just lucky?_"

Donald rocked forward on his feet until his forehead could _clunk_ against the shelf.

"_If you didn't notice, that's my subtle way of making sure I didn't freak you out again the other night_," Jesse made a wet sound like he was chewing on his lips, "_I wanted to make you that we were...okay_."

"Yeah, man, we're fine," Donald tried not to sigh into the receiver, "It wasn't like the first night."

"_So you're not freaking out?_"

He pushed himself off the shelf and started looking again, "No, promise."

"_Oh good_," Jesse's little laugh was more like a relieved titter, "_We can do it again?_"

He would never forget the way the freshman's mouth opened up to him, "Maybe."

"_That's not a 'no' and I'm taking it._"

His anxiety was melting into something lighter. Though the flirting was off-hand, it was fun. They started talking about what he was doing and it became a comfortable discussion on the poets they were choosing for their class.

"_I don't understand what World War II has to do with 17th century poetry._"

"She said it was looking back for answers to the present," Donald finally found the book he'd been looking for, "But, you know, _not_. Or maybe she thinks we're actually living in 1938."

"_She just might_," Jesse implied, "_Are you excited for Regionals?_"

"Are you?"

"_I'm actually between totally psyched and horribly nauseous_," he confessed, "_But that doesn't mean I'm not ready. I had a really cool dream about it_."

"Really?" he flipped it open, eyes scanning the lines without really reading them, "Tell me."

"_It was our group's turn to go up but once we got on stage I realized we were in a stadium. It was packed to the brim_," he sounded like it had actually happened, "_I was standing there holding the mic, ready to go, but when the music started and I turned around everyone was gone. It was just you and me up there and you were looking at me like I was stupid for not knowing what to do. And..._"

Jesse trailed off hesitantly, "_Sorry, ranting. But I woke up and I couldn't help but think how cool it would be to sing with you in front of people. I bet we'd get people pregnant with our harmony._"

Donald outright laughed at that, "Damn, Kansas, just _damn_. I hope not."

"_Have you checked your background?_" the boy's tone was different now, a shade deeper than before like he was telling a secret.

"No, I haven't been on my phone since practice," Donald's brows knit, "Why?"

"_You'll see_," he sing-songed, "_Check your pictures too. Talk to you later._"

Donald slowly pulled the mobile away from his ear before looking clearing the screen. His background picture, which was usually just sheet music, had been changed. The freshman must have snatched it while he was busy with one of the others and stolen it away to the locker room. It was a picture of Jesse, still sweaty from rehearsal and framed by white tile.

The shot was from above that showed the strong line of his torso, his eyes twice as big from the flattering angle. The usually harsh light was catching off his smooth skin and making it flow a bit in the way cellphone picture usually did. Jesse was clearly flexing his arms and the muscle there looked good enough to bite. There was a strip of flesh visible from the way his shirt was bunched up, exposing his hip. It could've easily been a softcore porn picture from a seedy website except for the boy's smile. Something about it was innocent, softening up his lust into adoration. That grin looked as grateful as he had sounded on the phone, toothy in the way his never were.

For the first time, Donald wished he could smile so easily.

He started through his pictures and found four more. Two were actually just adorable. In one, Jesse had clearly stolen his sunglasses too and was sporting some sort of 'bad-boy' face with them covering his eyes. The next was just an exaggerated kiss being blown at the phone. The kid looked ridiculous.

Then there was Jesse with his shirt off and his thumb hooked in the band of his pants, tugging it down to show off the 'v' of his groin and his dark curls. The skin was pale there, untouched by the sun. He wanted to lick it. The next punched the breath out of him. It was a little out of focus but perfect. Jesse's teeth were biting into the plump flesh of his lip, shirt still off and pants unbuckled. The grooves of his hips were on full display now. They were even more tasty.

Oh, the things he wanted to do to this boy. Donald could imagine Jesse sprawled out on his bed like that, hands twisted up in his sheets and begging to come. He'd make the younger man see stars. He could almost guarantee Jesse would be one of those people who got blissed out and cuddly after an orgasm. He'd be so pliant, Donald would be able to just drag him into his arms, run his hands over those strong-looking shoulders and down his back until the younger fell asleep. He'd be the first thing Jesse saw when he woke up in the morning.

Donald locked his phone and shoved it away once he realized it wasn't just his dick that was interested. He thumbed through the pages of the book he'd chosen in hopes of a distraction, almost ripping a few of the fragile pages in the process.

_I sought him whom my Soul did Love,_

_With tears I sought him earnestly. _

_He bow'd his ear down from Above._

_In vain I did not seek or cry._

Donald growled and shoved the book into his bag, "Fuck this."

"Bumper," Donald's knocking had started off normal enough but he'd progressed to slamming the side of his fist on the painted wood, "Bumper!"

"Jesus, baby, calm down," the brunette finally opened up the door, scowl leaving when he saw the breathless state of his beat box, "Whoa. Are you running from the police or are you finally taking those cardio tips seriously?"

"I need to talk," Donald grit out, "None of this getting-back-together crap, no pulling rank, no cute names, just friends, okay? I need someone to listen right now-"

"Hey, buddy, stop," Bumper soothed, pushing the door open further, "If you need your best friend right now, you've got him."

He sounded like he did the first day they met, before he put on the persona of cocky a capella boy.

"Oh thank God," Donald grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him into a crushing hug.

"Get in here," Bumper lead him inside, the two of them still wrapped up in each other, "Sit down, D, you look like you're going to fall over."

"You know what would really help me relax?"

"I thought you quit," Bumper raised a brow at that, tapping a finger to his mouth, "You were worried it would fuck with your lungs or whatever."

"Dude, let me worry about me. Do you have any or not?"

About an hour and a dozen hits later, Donald was watching Bumper light and start the bong.

"It's black magic," Donald declared with certainty, "It's witchcraft. There's no other way to describe the fact that it works. Stupidest invention ever."

"So...you want the first hit?"

"Hand it over."

It was Bumper's turn to watch too closely, "What's bugging you?"

Donald sighed around a mouthful of smoke, "How are your classes?"

"Boring," the brunette scoffed, "What about you?"

"I'm trying to wrap my head around 17th century poetry but it's not working," Donald complained, pausing to take another greedy hit, "It's just so damn archaic. If I put a beat behind it, it makes it bearable."

Bumper took the pipe when it was offered, "How psyched are you for Regionals?"

Donald grinned, "So. Fucking. Psyched."

"I had doubts about that song," his voice was strained from the smoke, "But the boys are nailing it."

"It's an awesome song," he ran his tongue over his dark lips, taking back the bong, "You know what else is awesome?"

"What?"

"Jesse."

Bumper swallowed down his instant surge of annoyance, "Oh?"

Donald took a hit but it was too hard, too sharp. He swayed where he sat, passing the pipe back to Bumper so he could unfold his legs and stretch out on the older boy's bed. It was much better like this, his swimming head anchored by the pillow.

"This kid is getting under my skin," Donald admitted to the ceiling, "I can't afford it, you know? I have all these big-ass dreams of New York and working under a big label and just fucking _being_ somebody and I can't do that attached to someone. Not someone like him at least."

Bumper laid a hand on the beat box's jean-clad shin, "Like him?"

"You've seen him, he's all..._soft_," Donald's fingers danced through the air, curling as if to grasp something, "Pretty, nice, all apple-pie and puppy-loving. Like one of those boys you see next door cleaning the gutters but never talk to. They're cute and fit but they've only been background noise before him. The little shit won't let me go."

Donald dropped his hand down onto his glasses before tossing them toward the desk, only the sound of clattering pens telling him he made it.

"Why can't I just concentrate on _me_ for five minutes? Why does it have to be about someone else?"

"You don't want to, but you care about people," Bumper pointed out reluctantly.

"Fuck people," Donald pulled his phone out and unlocked the screen, Jesse's bright smile greeting him. His gaze was longing and lingering, thumb tracing the edge of his screen.

"He's so fucking hot," Donald chewed at the corner of his lip, "Maybe if I just fuck him I'll stop all this overthinking bullshit."

The beat box lost himself in puppy dog eyes. He didn't realize he was hard until Bumper ran his knuckles along it, the older boy's eyes shamelessly hungry as he touched him. Donald gasped and rolled his hips up into it, the pressure almost _stupid _good. He frowned but kept pushing up, Bumper's grip tightening up obediently.

"What are you doin', B?" it wasn't quite a protest, not with how wonderful it felt.

"Let me fix this," he thumbed at the button of his pants, "You'll love it."

Bumper crawled up the long length of his body, warmth covering him and making him shiver. Donald let his eyes fall closed as the other nuzzled at the bottom of his neck, just above his t-shirt. Bumper's touch was gentle so he didn't see the harm, relaxing into the AXE scented sheets. He'd been here before, he knew what to expect. The familiarity was a welcome relief.

"You're so easy," Donald hummed, blindly groping for the older boy's thick hair, "Can't get attached...can't hurt me anymore. Could just walk away. Fuck, man, shoulda' just stayed with you."

"Yeah, you should've," Bumper moved up, lips grazing dangerously close to his mouth. Donald shoved his hand up, the heel of his palm catching at the bottom of the other boy's teeth and driving his head away.

"No kissin', dude, you _know_ I hate kissin'," Donald grumbled, turning his head away. He never kissed when he fucked, everyone knew that. Everyone but the one who mattered.

"I'm starting to doubt you've ever been kissed," Bumper started unbuckling his pants, fingers eager to get back on what had been kept from him all summer, "Let a guy fuck you but touch your mouth and get all prissy."

"Too intimate," Donald murmured, losing himself a little as the high really hit him. He had been dizzy before but now he was swamped in a slow, rocking motion that only existed in his head. Like he was laying on a boat in the middle of the ocean or something else as cliché. Everything went fuzzy around the edges but it was good. He was zoning out and it was just what he'd needed. It was a refreshing change to just stop and enjoy. His dick was suddenly somewhere hot and wet, a moan escaping him once he caught up to the sensation. It was good, real good. Pressure, suction, pleasure. Simple.

Then Jesse crept back into his mind. The honest way he laughed, how his mouth fell, how adamant he was on the fact that the kids from _The Breakfast Club_ stayed friends after the movie ended.

Donald laughed out loud when he realized he'd kissed Jesse and liked it. He hadn't actually kissed someone since...since high school. He'd made the no-kissing-no-I'm-serious-don't-even-try rule early on, a product of getting his heart broken too often. He'd tried not dating at all but the rule had come up when he'd realized he could fuck without feeling. He'd never even kissed Bumper despite the boy's begging. That first night they'd tried to do something, Jesse had silently begged for it to.

Oh, that night.

Donald pushed Bumper down and choked him from how hard he thrust up into his mouth. Jesse had been so hot pressed up against that tree, all panting putty under his hands. The perfect fit of his dick in his hand, the thickness of it pulsing against his fingers. Enough to make him feel it but not enough to hurt. Not like Bumper's stupid long dick that felt like he was being stabbed each time he moved. Inconsiderate fuck.

Donald made a mental note not to let him fuck him again.

He remembered Jesse going on about how he would love for them to sing together.

"Bumper," he sounded blatantly placating but the older boy didn't seem to mind. Bumper had always loved being catered to and now was no different. Donald eased his grip down until he was petting through plain hair, nails digging in just the way the other liked it. There was a hum around his dick that almost made him forget what he wanted to ask. _Almost._

"Let Jesse be second in the number," he ran his thumb over the shell of Bumper's ear, "You'd be in front, like always. But have him sing the melody."

Donald cracked open his eyes when the older boy's mouth fell off him.

"Why?"

"Please?" he could feel his own lips pouting before they pulled into a smile. Bumper was red-lipped and crumbling; his resolve was slipping and he didn't even know it.

"Just this once?" Donald shifted and realized his pants were just pulled down around his thighs, thinking _dickhead_ before settling in what he hoped was a seductive pose, "Think it'd be good."

But Bumper hesitated. Donald internally rolled his eyes. Typical. He was holding out for more, he always did.

"Don't stop," he put a pathetic whine in his voice, "Need you, Bumper."

_Fucking birds_, Donald groaned out loud, _Why did I leave the window open? Stupid_.

He gave a great sigh and rolled onto his back, dragging the covers over his bare chest. Mmm, he liked that body spray. It reminded him of sitting on the quad trying to come up with a team name with Bumper, or the two of them racing to try-outs because they'd both overslept. Good times.

But his room didn't smell like that.

Donald's eyes popped open. He was in Bumper's room. Why the fuck was he in Bumper's room? He cautiously turned his head and cringed when he saw said Treblemaker beside him, fast asleep and half-curled around him. Donald lifted the blankets and repressed another groan. Bumper was naked and he was down to his underwear. Feeling filthy, he did a physical check. No, they didn't fuck. Thank God. He ran his tongue over his teeth, there was a sour starchy taste lingering there. He gagged loudly.

Right. _Fuck._

A hand curled across his ass, squeezing weakly.

Donald carefully slid out of bed and started collecting his clothes, shoving his legs into his jeans without bothering to buttoning them and tugging his shirt over his head. He had to stretch over the mattress to pluck up his glasses. His sock-clad feet were silent on the carpet, giving him the edge as he snuck out.

It was still early, the house wouldn't be up yet. He knew he must look a mess but he needed something to get the nasty taste out of his mouth. Shoes and jacket still cradled in his arms, he crept to the kitchen for orange juice (or acid, whatever came first). He had just reached the counter when he caught sight of the clock.

It was noon. Someone behind him whistled.

Donald turned on the heels of his feet, discovering the living room pretty populated. Most of the Trebles were there and from the couch a pair of big dark eyes blinked at him.

Jesse. _God damn it_.

"Walk of shame," Hat sung lowly, grinning.

Donald chucked one of his shoes at him, just barely missing the top of the boy's head.

"No one say a fucking word or I'm locking this place up and setting it on fire, got it?" Donald growled out dangerously. The boys nodded and shut their mouths, all except for Jesse. His eyebrows were all furrowed, confused. It seemed to be his perpetual state around anything Bumper related.

"Out," Donald demanded.

Jesse looked around but it was clear the order was directed at him, "What?"

"You heard me," he was deadly calm as he pointed toward the door, "Out."

The younger man started to stand up but it was slow progress, "Are you serious?"

"Do I sound serious?"

"Sorry," Jesse grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, "I-I brought our books. I thought we could study today."

Donald blew out a sharp breath, "Great. Awesome. _Get out_."

"Donald-"

"Would you just fucking listen and leave?" Donald finally snapped, "I'll come find you later but right now, get the fuck out!"

He hated how desperate he sounded.

Jesse barely nodded before he obeyed. The thoughtful brat didn't even slam the door. Donald's fingers clawed in frustration before he stormed back down the hall to the bathroom. He locked himself in and started the shower, cranking it up as hot as he could stand and then one notch further. His clothes were dumped on the tile before he jumped in, chomping down on his lower lip to keep from crying out. Even a minute being scalded wasn't enough to cleanse him of his regret, his shame.

Bumper. Of all the people in the Trebles he could've spent the night with it had to be _Bumper._ It couldn't have been a stranger, it had to be _him._ God, he'd never hear the end of it. His flirting would be impossible now. What if he thought they were together?

Someone knocked on the door.

"Donald?" it was Unicycle, "You okay, man?"

"I'm fine," his voice cracked, forehead pressed to the slick tile.

What had he done?

* * *

**New photoset at the Tumblr :) Check the profile, my loves, for the link. Thank you for reviewing so quickly! I appreciate it more than you know**


	3. Chapter 3

Jesse's fingers danced lazily over the stack of records he was trying to sort through. He'd been working on the same pile for almost half an hour and he'd barely made a dent in it. His mind just wasn't in the work today, not with Donald's cold dismissal still fresh in his mind. The other Trebles refused to tell him what that had been about but he could guess.

Donald had slept with someone last night and he hadn't wanted Jesse to know about it.

It was fine, he could take it. They only kissed once, he only touched his dick, he was only a _little_ in love with him. If Donald wanted to fuck other guys, that was his business. They weren't together, they weren't really anything. It didn't matter. He just wished his heart didn't hurt so much thinking about it.

The bell over the door chimed. He braced himself to deal with one of Luke's snotty associates, plastering on a cheap smile as he started to walk around the shelves to greet them.

It was Donald. Dressed now and looking smooth once more. He seemed at ease as he started through the back room, fingertips grazing across the edges of vinyls like his own had been doing just a few moments before. Jesse did the first he could think of and dropped into a crouch, hiding behind the thickly packed records and praying he wasn't seen. He needed a moment to compose himself, he wasn't ready for this!

"Donald?" Luke called from the booth, "Is that you?"

Jesse sat up on his knees and peered as stealthily as he could, frowning. How the hell did they know each other? Luke had made it clear he hated the a capella scene. He watched the two of them walk up to each other with growing smiles.

"Luke," Donald greeted, slapping his hand and getting pulled into a bro-hug, "It's been a while."

"I know."

Jesse scowled as Luke's eyes ran over the beat box's form, "You look great."

Donald gave a modest shrug.

"Where have you been?" Luke urged. It was the first time Jesse had seen the man genuinely excited about something. He didn't like it.

Donald leaned against a table, "Doing my Treble thing."

"Bumper's been keeping you busy, then," the blonde grinned knowingly.

"He's a handful, man, you know how it is," Donald's smile got a strain to it, "Someone's gotta keep him on a leash."

"You haven't been going out a lot lately," Luke took a daring step closer, "Club-hopping isn't as fun without you."

"Fuck you, man," Donald gave him a playful punch in the arm, "You know that always ends in some _8 Mile_ shit where we all end up in someone's basement having half-ass rap battles and drinking cheap beer until we decide to try and record ourselves."

"Those are some of the best tracks!" he declared. They shared a hardy laugh and it made Jesse's skin itched. They were way too comfortable together.

"I missed you," Luke professed on the trail end of a chuckle.

Donald's fingers flicked over the older man's leather bracelet, the tips grazing his wrist in a tease of a touch, "I bet you do."

"You should come to the booth with me," Luke suggested with a tilt of his head, leaning in too close for Jesse's comfort, "Set the next couple tracks up."

"Did you finally get some blinds?" the question made Jesse's hands tighten on the edge of the shelf, teeth grit hard enough to hurt.

"Yeah, but it's not as fun," Luke actually made a grab for the beat box's hand, "Come on. We'll find a way to make it fun."

"Nah, man, I can't," Donald pulled his hand back in a smooth, subtle rejection.

"What's up?" the blonde frowned and pulled back respectively, "Is there a jealous boyfriend or a crazy girlfriend running around I should be worried about?"

"I'm just, uh, kind of seeing someone," Donald swiped at his nose casually, "It's not a big deal."

"Whoa, seriously?" Luke was still smiling as he threw up his hands dramatically, "That's new."

"Listen, dude, I didn't come here to talk about my shitty love life or hook up or anything," the beat box waved him off, pushing off the table to work around him.

Luke gave a soft snort, "You really know how to make a guy feel special."

"You're lucky you're fit, man," Donald scoffed, "I wouldn't let anyone else guilt trip me this hard."

Jesse rocked forward on his heels, straining to get a better look. His shoes squeaked.

"Jesse!" Donald called in relief, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket.

Luke's cheekbones stood out in a sour expression, "Jesse?"

"Yeah, we're in the Trebles together," he shot his own puppy eyes at the blonde, "Can I borrow him for a few minutes? I'll put him back in the same condition, I promise."

"Sure," Luke looked more than a little put out, "I was serious about the set up, though. I'll grab some lunch, how about you take the booth?"

"Thanks, man," Donald fished a crisp, folded ten dollar bill out of his jeans pocket, "On me."

The DJ started to shake his head, "Donald-"

"I owe you, okay? You've covered me plenty of times," Donald reached up and turned Luke's necklace a bit to fix it, letting his fingers linger in the hollow of his throat, "Consider it a bribe to let the freshman in the box."

"Fine," Luke shot a hot glare at said freshman as he struggled to stand up gracefully, "Don't touch anything."

Jesse held up his hands in surrender.

"You two better be playing nice when I'm not around," Donald teased as he slapped a hand down on the younger man's shoulder, leading him toward the booth. He practically shoved him inside before shutting the door, shoulders dropping with his too-cool persona.

"Are you trying to get me in trouble?" Jesse tried to tease but it came off more serious than he'd like.

"Don't mind Luke, he's a big softie. He just likes to come off as a hard ass," Donald started going through the CDs, fingers remembering where everything was, "Try not to let him get to you. If he gives you shit, I'll set him straight."

"Thanks, I guess," Jesse ran his tongue over his top teeth, picking his words carefully, "How'd you know where I worked?"

"Homeless network, remember?"

Though he was happy to see him, he was still a little sore from earlier, "Why'd you come?"

Donald gave a big sigh, pride going down bitter, "I'm sorry for this morning."

Jesse honestly hadn't expected a real apology so he didn't dare ruin it with a comment.

"I showed my ass and it wasn't cool," the beat box selected two vinyls, "You didn't deserve that."

"Did something happen?" he found himself asking, "I was worried. I've never seen you get violent.'

"Well, you don't know me that well, do you?" Donald wanted to swallow the words down the moment he said them. The boy didn't deserve contrite comments like that.

"I feel like I do," Jesse confessed honestly.

"Jesse..." Donald dropped his head, "You have to stop."

"Stop what?"

Fingers ran through and mussed dark curls, "You've just gotta stop...being so _nice_ to me."

"I like being nice to you," Jesse's voice was soft as he came up behind the beat box. Donald tensed but he didn't move away, waiting it out. With a light touch, he laid his hands along the older boy's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.

"I can't believe you and Luke know each other," Jesse mused, "That's so weird."

The touch felt nice so he didn't protest. Instead he hummed and continued to flick through the CDs.

Jesse knew it wasn't the time but he needed to ask, "What did Hat mean by _walk of shame_?"

Donald turned and put his hand in the middle of the freshman's chest, shoving him back to make some distance between them.

"Let me tell you something," he started fiercely, "Bumper is none of your business. And Luke and I usually fool around in the summers."

Jesse's brow pinched up, a pained look sweeping over his handsome face.

Donald couldn't take it and faced the display again, fingers picking more quickly through the CDs now, "You're probably gonna find out anyway. I've got a reputation."

"An equal opportunity sharer," Jesse choked out the syllables like they hurt.

"We fucked here in the booth a few times, actually," Donald glanced over at the full-bodied desk chair. He could still remember how warm the leather had been against his knees as he'd straddled Luke's lap. The blonde knew how to fuck, that was for sure. He had been a good summer fling but Donald always seemed to lose interest when the leaves changed. Hopefully his blunt tone would make Jesse see just what kind of person he was. This kid-glove bullshit was driving him crazy.

How was he supposed to be casual when the boy looked at him like he'd never seen anything better?

"Makes you sick, huh?" Donald put his tongue in his cheek, he hadn't meant to say that.

_Of course he is. You're disgusting. You fuck whoever you, whenever you want it. You're a user and nobody wants that shit. You sucked Bumper's cock just to get Jesse a better spot in a music number. How pathetic is that? There's not an innocent part of you left._

Jesse came back without pause, wrapping the older boy's waist in his arms and dragging him in closer than before. He rubbed his cheek against the base of his dark neck, body warmth bleeding through their clothes and mingling. The firm hug made Donald melt and press back into him, too eager for contact to to deny the intimacy.

"No, it makes me sad," Jesse whispered, lips skimming sweetly along the sensitive skin. Donald came to face him, curling his own arms around the brunette's neck and bussing their noses.

"It's going to take more than a shady past to ruin you for me," Jesse admitted, brave enough to keep his gaze as he said it.

_I'll ruin you, alright_, the other thought sadly. Donald shook off the wet blanket of a feeling, giving in to his impulse to steal a kiss. It was sweet and wet, Jesse's lips worried slick and swollen from his earlier nerves.

"I forgive you," Jesse muttered into his mouth.

"Shut up, man, you're ruining it," Donald grouched, tugging him closer to deepen the kiss. It was nice and he lost himself in it, letting the now-revolting memories of his drunk fucking fade out. The booth disappeared along with that creaky leather chair. Jesse swamped his system and smothered over anything sharp, anything that hurt him. It was addictive.

Jesse's eyes opened briefly before he pulled back, shyly breaking their kiss.

Panic shot through the beat box's chest, fearing the younger had changed his mind, "Jesse?"

"Luke's watching us," Jesse was blushing up to the tips of his ears, "My boss is watching me make out with his friend and I don't think I can walk out of here with my dignity intact."

"Fuck," Donald hissed under his breath, dropping his arms. He grabbed a pen and a sticky note and started making marks along it, noting the tracks he'd recommend. On the outside he seemed fine but on the inside he was desperately clawing himself back together. He was through three CDs before he got his voice back.

"You think you're ready for the Riff-Off?" he asked too casually.

"Yeah, I think I'll do fine," Jesse sounded distracted behind him.

Donald went to tell him to quit being cocky but he heard the door open and stopped. He spotted Luke leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and putting on a disgusted face.

"That was quick," Donald walked past Jesse without a glance, fitting himself on the other side of the frame. Their knees brushed, an easy smile gracing his face that Jesse knew was fake from the get-go. It was too wide and it didn't reach his eyes.

"You want to come?" Donald offered, sounding like he was going to give up a whole lot more.

"Bunch of aca-losers showing off?" Luke scoffed, "Not really my thing."

"There's dancing and free booze and enough fine ladies to go around," Donald persuaded.

"That sounds _just_ like your kind of thing," the blonde countered, "Mine? Depends."

"On?" the beat box prompted.

Luke's bright eyes flickered toward Jesse for a moment, "If you're gonna be there."

"Of course I will," Donald promised, "I'll save you dance."

_God damn it_, he cursed to himself, _I said I wasn't going to fuck around with him anymore. Is Jesse looking? Fuck, of course he is_.

"Don't forget about rehearsal tonight, Kansas," Donald tossed over his shoulder as he eased past the DJ, "We're going to warm up and go over some basics before we head off campus."

He made a clean get away.

Luke raised an eyebrow at the freshman, a silent question.

"Uh, sorry about that," Jesse floundered, "I didn't meant to-"

"Freshman."

The younger man gave a big smile, "Yes?"

"Get out of my booth."

"Yeah."

Donald stood back from Greg's truck, watching the Trebles mill around it as they got ready to head to the abandoned pool house. Jesse was helping Unicycle load his bike into the back around the beer they had pitched in to take.

Bumper crept up behind him and put an arm around his shoulders, forcing him down so his lips brushed his ear. Donald resisted the urge to recoil.

"We'll see how the new meat does tonight. If he's good, I'll think about giving him second."

Donald felt his heart pick up a little, "I thought you forgot about that, man."

"No way," his hand dropped down to pinch the younger man's ass.

Donald punched him in the shoulder as sharply as he could.

"Ow, _fuck_, Donny," Bumper drew back, "That wasn't kinky, that was straight up violent."

"Good. Got my point across, then."

Jesse finished off his second cup of beer (at least, he thought it was beer), but that didn't help quench the indignant fire blazing low in his belly. He was sitting on the edge of the old, emptied pool watching the make-shift dance floor fill up. Aca-nerds, low-level jocks, and anyone else who had nothing better to do on a Friday night had showed up.

Plus a DJ.

Jesse couldn't seem to look away from Donald. He was down there among the small crowd, the music pulsing through and echoing off the pool walls that drove the bass up ten times. Even with a drink or two already in him, Donald was graceful and fluid as he danced. Jesse's admiration was tainted with contempt because those skills were being used with his boss. Luke was practically plastered along Donald's back, grinding along with him. His hands were far too low on the beat box's hips for his liking. Though Luke was his boss, Jesse was reaching his breaking point. Donald was clearly putting on an act and no one seemed to notice.

It was a play.

Jesse tilted his head back to try and down the dregs in his cup when he caught sight of Bumper. He was in the opposite corner of the pool as him, standing instead of sitting. Bumper was glaring down at the two dancing men, other hand hiding in his pocket.

"The enemy of my enemy is still my enemy," Jesse chewed around the edge of his cup.

He was competing with Bumper _and_ Luke now. Fantastic.

Donald had been waiting all night for the other shoe to drop. It just so happened that it fell between song changes.

Luke's mouth grazed his ear, hands still tight on his hips, "I saw you two kissing.

His jaw went rigid beneath his skin.

"You don't kiss," the DJ continued, "That was one of your rules. You stopped me all the time."

Donald pushed him away, "And...we're done."

Luke huffed, "Donny, wait."

"I fucking _hate_ being called Donny," he hissed back, making his way toward the nearest ladder to climb out.

"Whoa, man, whoa," a hand grabbed at him.

"Don't put your hands on me, man," Donald threw off the touch, voice dangerously low, "I was trying to be nice but it's like every guy I've ever let put their dick in me thinks they own me or something. Like you've all bought shares in _Donald_ and are entitled to every little fucking thing I do. You knew what it was."

Luke rolled his eyes, "You still think it's casual after three summers?"

"For God's sake, Luke, of course it was," Donald snapped, "_All_ my sex is casual. I told you that, I tell _everyone._ I'm starting to think you guys ignore everything I say before we get in bed."

The blonde held out his hand, "I think you need to calm down a bit, love."

"_Love_?" Donald spat out, shedding his coat and tossing it aside carelessly, "Hit me."

"What?"

"I'm obviously nothing more than a bitch you fucked. If I have to knock out every guy I fuck to get them off my back, I will," Donald informed him hotly, adrenaline pumping strong as he readied himself for a fight, "Bring it. I'm not scared of you."

"What's going on?" Bumper was suddenly at his elbow. While the two had been arguing, the other Treblemakers had closed in.

"What's this?" Luke took a step back, "You're going to get your boys to jump me to prove your masculinity?"

The dark skinned boy made a noise like a growl, "I don't need anyone to prove that I'm a man."

Luke's lips pursed and for a moment he seemed spurned, then his mouth split into an ugly grin, "You sure do take it like one."

The tension broke with an almost audible _crack_. Donald charged at him but didn't get more than a foot before Bumper caught him below the arms, dragging him back with a rare show of strength. Jesse, who had finally scrambled down the ladder to see what was going on, hurried to move in front of Luke. The DJ looked like he was ready for a fight and he couldn't bear to see it go down like that. He threw his palms out in front of him and tried to put on his most disarming smile, his biggest defense.

"Wow, okay, that was all really great," his voice was too loud but at least he sounded friendly, "You said some things, he said some things, you got some stuff off your chest and that's healthy. _I_ prefer a hot shower and some light reading, but making a scene is totally a way to go. Nice choice. I mean, we're all excited to be here, tension runs high, it's all pretty heady stuff. What matters is that we're not going to take it too far."

"Stay out of this, freshman!" Luke slapped a hand across Jesse's collar, fingertips jamming into the base of his throat that made him flinch and stumble back. He tripped over his own feet and he fell, banging his shoulder hard on the bottom of the pool. It jolted his bones and made him jerk his arm away, a hissing sound escaping him

Donald ripped away from Bumper and delivered a swift, practiced punch to the DJ's jaw. Luke lost his balance for a few moments as well but he didn't fall. Instead he cradled his jaw and flexed it carefully beneath his palm, face dazed and eyes dull.

"Your fight's with me," Donald stated, a new-found steel in his voice.

"You hit me," Luke mumbled, dropping his hand to reveal his reddened flesh.

"No fucking shit."f

"What makes him so special?" Luke demanded, throwing his hand at the freshman on the ground, "He's just some little brat you've known for ten minutes. What the fuck?"

Donald was just scowling when some of the broad-armed boys they had assigned to guard the door came up, "Get him out of here, guys."

"Whatever," Luke eyed the three bigger guys, "You guys are a bunch of tossers anyway."

"Did you see that?" Bumper laughed obnoxiously loud at Luke's retreating back, "Jesus! Man, even I know not to touch my boy's new project. You're lucky he didn't kick your teeth in, asshole!"

Donald ignored him and went to pull Jesse to his feet, brushing him off, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Jesse handed the beat box his white jacket, he'd fallen next to it, "Uh, here."

"Thanks, man," he slid it on, "But next time; stay back. I don't need someone fighting for me."

"I was trying to stop it before it even started," Jesse started to grin toothily, "You punched my boss in the face."

"Yeah, well, he's an asshat who would drown in his own reflection. And he has bad breath. Like, _constant_ morning breath," Donald grouched, "It's awful."

"Was he trying something with you?" the older boy gave him a curt nod, "Too bad you hit him. You missed out on all those abs."

"They're not that great," Donald assured him, "There's more important things than getting laid."

"Like, say, falling in love?" Jesse tried.

"Like doing well tonight," the senior snagged him by the back of the neck, leaning in to keep it between them, "If you totally _kill_ it tonight, I've got a surprise for you."

"A sexy surprise?" he asked, comically serious.

Donald patted his back before starting toward Bumper, "What the hell was that, B? Holding me back? I could've taken him."

"No doubt, no doubt," Bumper waved his hands a bit in emphasis, "But one busted lip and our bass is fucked. Really, I'm looking out for the group."

"That was so cool, dude!" Greg hollered, slapping hands with him.

"You _totally_ came out of nowhere," Hat declared, going in for a bro-hug.

"Did you see the way his head whipped back?" Unicycle laughed, throwing his arm around Kolio's shoulder, "Don't mess with my main man over here. He's a panther. An Indian tiger."

Michael clapped the beat box on the back, "_Life of Pi_ over here!"

The boys succeeded in making Donald laugh, diffusing the tension that had built up in the pool.

Beca scooted up close to Jesse, "_That's_ the guy you were telling me about?"

"I know," Jesse couldn't even be mad at how dreamy-esque he sounded.

"He's crazy," Beca pointed out.

"I know."

"He just punched our boss," Beca tapped her cheek, "Who, I was under the impression, was his friend."

"I _know_," he waggled his eyebrows, "Isn't he cool?"

Beca made a show of thinking it over before nodded, "Yeah, totally."

The Riff-Off left the Treblemakers buzzing. They traveled like an excited herd back to the truck, jumping all over one another. Donald weaved through them and snuck up on their leader, fingers just touching his shoulder blade.

"So?" he prompted.

"I can _taste_ your smug right now," Bumper commented, stubbornly refusing to turn around.

"Come on, Thumper," Donald shoved his shoulder into his friend's back, "What's the verdict?"

Bumper gave a big, dramatic sigh before facing the smirking boy.

"He can be second," that smirk was growing, he raised his finger, "_Once_. Just this time. Because you asked so nicely."

"Told you so," there was a little more swagger in his step now, "Even you can't deny that he's pretty damn good."

He walked ahead, turning on his heels just for a second, "And don't call him my project. He's got a name. It's Jesse."

"_Jesse_," Bumper tisked, "Right."

It wasn't until their fourth rehearsal that the Trebles really had a solid grasp on the song and the choreography. The switch up between Bumper and Jesse had only caused minor ripples, and one session had just been shameless gossip in whispers while bets were taken on things Donald didn't even want to know about. Bumper didn't show up for the third, too busy sleeping off a bender to care.

But the fifth – the fifth was something special. Every foot moved the right way, every voice was on pitch, and every person seemed to know right where they needed to be.

It was a choreographers dream.

The boys filed out with their packs on their backs and sweat on their brows. They were all thoroughly exhausted and ready for some food and a nap. Bumper was the first to dart to with a quick _peace, bitches_. Soon enough it was just Donald and Jesse left on the stage, both had agreed to stay back to get the freshman ready for his solo.

Surprising enough, Jesse was nervous.

"Now that Bumper's gone we can concentrate on everything you're doing right instead of like the five things you're doing wrong," Donald was busy marking the spots where the others would be standing for Jesse's first solo. Though the practice had gone well, Bumper had been determined to minimalize going over the section where the freshman would be shining. They needed to get through it at least twice more before the day was over.

"Are you going to beat-box through it for me?" Jesse asked, hands thrown out in a west coast signs that just emphasized how clean cut he was.

"No way, white boy," Donald laughed, putting Bumper's marker just a few feet behind his own.

Jesse made a disgruntled sound, "Then how am I supposed to keep the beat without music?"

Donald put the heavy roll of tape around his wrist and walked over, letting out a big breath like he had to do everything himself. Fingers straight and stiff, he pressed the side of his hand right up against Jesse's pulse. It was the sweet spot just below his jawline, the skin there thin and jumping at his touch.

"Feel that?" Donald inquired, the younger man nodding, "Just get in tune with that. It's the same rhythm I use to get on beat."

"The body's natural beat box?" Jesse teased.

He gave a little smile, "Something like that."

Jesse went to his starting point and started, belting his section out like it was the real thing. He nailed his moves, feeling just as excited as he had after the Riff-Off when Donald told him he'd be playing second in the number. The older boy's eyes were on him the whole time, only calling out a couple of corrections.

"That's what I'm talking about," Donald nodded, moving to stand on his own shiny silver 'X', "With me this time."

They went through it together and it came smoothly, the two of them moving around each other and the invisible bodies of the other Trebles.

"You have to teach me that fancy footwork right there," Jesse demanded, trying to imitate him and nearly falling over. Donald showed him again but no luck, the brunette wasn't nearly graceful enough.

"I'll stick to my stripper moves over here," Jesse did a little grinding motion, "Ladies love that."

"I bet they do," Donald had long quit trying to smother his laughter around the freshman. It had been a long time since someone had made him laugh so much. It felt like something he needed and Jesse knew it.

"Wait, I have a better idea," Jesse took a run and slid to his knees, pulling his jacket open and wiggling his chest.

Donald bit at the edge of his knuckle, smiling around it, "What's that move?"

Jesse thrust his chest out and threw his head back, "I call it _The Bumper_!"

The beat box almost had to drop to his knees to keep from falling over, laughter shaking his chest. They horsed around on the stage together, feeling ten years younger as they made exaggerated faces and copied the clumsy dance moves Bumper always insisted on trying to squeeze into the choreography. It burned out the remainder of their energy but it was fun.

Before they knew it they were panting and thirsty. Their laughter died away and they calmed down, each taking a bottle of water. After taking down a little, Donald went back to it. He practiced the move the younger man had failed at, keeping the basic beat beneath his breath. A minute or two went by before Jesse worked up the nerve.

"I don't care how many guys you slept with," Jesse made known, hoping it didn't sound as bad to the other as it did to him.

Donald stopped, eyes still on his sneakers, "I didn't know I was looking for your permission."

"I'm just saying that it doesn't bother me," the brunette shrugged like this was something he talked about every day, "As long as everyone's consenting, who cares if you have some fun?"

There was a rush of something hot up through his chest, "What's your point, man?"

Jesse wet his lips, fingers moving restlessly over his water bottle, "You could have some fun with me."

Donald turned around so fast his sneakers squeaked on the smooth stage, "Jesse..."

"We're halfway there anyways and I'd rather you get what you want from me than some stranger who could have God-knows-what growing on their dick. It's better to do it with someone you know, right?"

Donald's gaze was scalding him.

"And I want that for you, to be safe."

The continued silence unnerved him.

"I-I could make it good for you," the water bottle slipped through his fingers, sloshing and rolling off the stage, "I've been with a couple guys, I've been told I'm fairly impressive. I've never had a girl complain, either."

The air felt an inch thick in his lungs.

"Or we could forget this horribly awkward moment and finish up and walk away and never talk about it again?"

"Kansas?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and come here."

Jesse hesitantly obeyed, relief flooding through him when Donald hooked a finger in his collar and dragged him the rest of the way. He wrapped an arm around his neck in a weak hug. It was tender enough to make the freshman's heart melt down into his stomach.

"Are you listening?"

Jesse nodded, what was left of his heart stuck in his throat.

"I think you deserve more than someone who just wants sex from you," Donald couldn't believe that he was saying it out loud but he couldn't stop it now, "You deserve...flowers on your doorstep and someone who's going to kiss you in public and be honest. Someone who'll let you in and give you what you need. I can't do that."

"Can't or won't?"

Donald fingers danced the soft tendrils of dark hair, "I go through people like rags, man, you don't want any part of that."

Jesse laid his hand across the small of the other's back, "Why don't you let _me_ worry about what I deserve."

Donald leaned his head down for a brief, dry kiss.

"We both know you're going to get carried away," he hated the way Jesse frowned but they knew it was true, "No one brings me coffee and pine nuts and just wants my dick."

"Maybe I do," Jesse raised his chin defiantly, "The rest of the Trebles already think we're together. We might as well be."

Donald dropped his arm and his hand, forcing himself to let go of the younger man, "I don't do _together._ I don't do _relationships._ I can't give you anything. I can't even be faithful. You don't want to share yourself with someone like that."

Just saying it made him tired.

"I do if it's you. I'm not asking to be your only," Jesse looked pained, "But I want a chance to try."

Donald shook his head, trying to back away, "That's _so_ not a good idea."

Jesse laced his hands at the bottom of Donald's back, dragging him back until they shared a breath, "I just want to be around you."

"Why?" he asked, perplexed.

"Because you're incredibly talented and you're super smart. You're witty and _really_ nice to look at," Jesse's eyes danced over the other's face, "Who wouldn't want to be a part of that? I'll take you any way I can get."

An eyebrow raised at that.

Jesse made a face, "That sounded a lot less desperate and pathetic in my head."

"I bet it did," he pacified.

"If I'm freaking you out or something, just tell me," yet his hands didn't move.

"You can't-"

Donald gave a startled gasp as he was pulled into another kiss. It was more passionate than before, all that usual puppy-like energy pouring into it. Donald's head went light and he swayed on his feet, falling back into the younger man's body and holding tight. It was the first fiery kiss they'd had since that awkward night Benji had walked in on them.

Next time the group practiced, this was all he would be thinking about.

Then the boy said something he'd never forget.

"I want to enjoy you."

"Fuck," he could feel his heart pounding, "That shouldn't be so hot."

"You told Luke you were kind of seeing someone," Jesse rasped into his mouth, eyes still closed like he was afraid of the answer.

"I lied."

Jesse faltered, brow creased, "I really don't like lying."

"Me either."

The kiss finally broke, they each drew in a full breath.

"I don't care what you do," Jesse puffed, "But please don't lie to me."

It was Donald's turn to be unsure. He ran his hand more thoroughly through the freshman's hair, trying to find some peace in its softness. He didn't like lying, he preferred his life more upfront so he didn't have to sneak around so much. But he's already started them off wrong. He hadn't told him about Bumper and that was enough to make him a liar.

"I'll try," was all he could give.

"Don..."

"You talk too much," Donald rolled his eyes, "You always ruin the moment."

Jesse manhandled him back into a kiss, fingers sliding down to the curve of his ass in a bold move that sent a bolt of lust straight to his cock. The auditorium filled with the slick sounds of their greedy kisses, Jesse releasing soft little sounds of simple pleasure. Donald had forgotten how good it was to properly make out with someone.

"Do you have any rules?" the freshman asked breathlessly.

Donald down his usual response of _no_ _kissing._

"We're just havin' fun, Kansas, stop trying to make me regret this already," Donald dipped his head down to place a harsh bite along the curve of the freshman's neck. Jesse moaned, the older boy's jeans burning against the skin of his palm.

"Marks?" Jesse offered, lashes fluttering as he thought about other places the senior could bite like that, "Any weird watersports kink I should know about?"

"One rule, then," Donald looked him square in the eye, "If you put your hands on me, I'm going to fuck you up, you understand?

Jesse nodded hastily.

"You don't own me. _I_ own me."

He nodded again, eyes wide as he realized the implications.

"This is so stupid," Donald kissed him hard, trying to think of a reason to end this whole thing but finding none, "This is a bad idea. You should be with that alt-girl – what's her name?"

"Beca," Jesse supplied.

"Get with Beca, live your stupid college life together, move in to a some too-small house with a half-ass fence and way too many puppies."

"I think I'm starting to rub off on you," Jesse broke another smile, "That sounded like a ramble."

Donald laughed so loud he startled them both. He promptly shut his mouth in embarrassment.

"God, you're handsome," Jesse gushed shamelessly, "Especially when you're all off-guard like this."

"You gonna write me poetry, Kansas?" it was easy to joke.

" 'And only what will injure them do crave; men's weakness makes love so severe. They give him power by their fear, and make the shackles which they wear,' " Jesse recited by heart, leaning in to brush their noses, " 'Who to another does his heart submit, makes his own idol, and then worships it. Him whose heart is all his own.' "

Donald was a little speechless.

"_Against Love_, by Ms. Katherine Phillips," Jesse stepped back briefly to give a dramatic bow, "Hold the applause."

"Nerd."

But he kissed him anyway.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

Donald invited Jesse back to the Treble house to study, another sort of apology for the way he'd been treating him. They started off well enough, each cranking out full outlines before breaking for a snack. They were just a few paragraphs through their respective essays when Donald got hungry for a little something different. He couldn't stop thinking of the way Bumper's mouth had felt on him when he was flying high, the memory still sour and giving him a shock of disgust every time it came over him.

To burn away that feeling and replace it with the all-encompassing force that was Jesse Swanson.

"I think a bit of this will help speed this along," Donald handed him the wooden box he kept his stuff in, "Here."

Jesse flipped open the lid, eyebrows jumping to his hairline, "Is this..._you know_?"

"Yeah, it's black-tar heroin fresh off the market," Donald gave a little snort, "Dude, it's pot, calm down. Unless you're not okay with it, then it's nothing."

"I'm fine with it," Jesse sounded a little too sure, like he was trying too hard, "I'm cool. Yeah, I did this all the time in high school. I just, uh, ran out."

Donald shook his head slowly, "Wow, Kansas, you really can't lie can you?"

The brunette blew a sigh out of the side of his mouth, "I've done it, like, twice."

"Well, let's make it three."

Jesse was completely hopeless at spreading and rolling, his fingers just as clumsy across the paper as his lips had been at beat boxing. But Donald couldn't complain when his candy-pink tongue was sealing the joint, the tip dancing along the long edge in a way that wouldn't have looked out of place in a porn. Though he was a little unsteady himself, Donald managed to light it.

They shared it. The end glowed with each inhale, the dimming of the evening became mood lighting with each passing moment. It was gone before they knew it and the buzz set in. After a few minutes of backspacing and exasperated sighing, their computers were abandoned on the floor and a pound bag of pine nuts came up from its hiding place under the bed.

Jesse started to tell him about the time he tried out for soccer, shooting pine nuts in the general direction of Donald's open mouth. The beat box tried for them but most just bounced off his glasses, snorty little chuckle escaping him with each botched attempt.

"I don't have the legs for kickpads," Jesse commented, catching a pine nut in his own mouth before shooting one at the older boy, "But you – you're built for it. I could see you tearing up the turf."

"My parents have always been in this big country club," Donald waved dismissively, "They shoved me into every stupid thing offered."

"Like what?" he asked around a mouthful of sugary soda.

"Golf, which I sucked at. Archery, where I shot the arrow-collector kid in the calf," he ticked the sports off on his fingers, "Tennis, which I sucked at. The only thing I remotely took to was fencing and it's terrifying. Sports and I don't get along."

"Really? You're all firm and you punch like a rabbit," Jesse pushed the nuts aside, getting up on his hands and knees, "I would pay money to watch you fence."

Donald grinned as the boy closed in, trying to be smooth and failing with the way his arms wobbled under his own weight, "Oh would you?"

"I'd pay money to watch you stand in a courtyard, so yeah," he tried to lean in for a taste of his mouth but his lips grazed his cheek by accident, "We should fool around but you should lead because my coordination is kind of shot."

"One more?"

Jesse nodded eagerly, "Totally. But you light it up. Again: Hands, brain, not connected."

Donald had wrapped and just started to light another joint when the younger man spoke up again, "Before we do anything, I just need to know something."

"Shoot," Donald spoke around a mouthful of smoke.

"Are you and Bumper together?"

The sentence settled like a stone in his gut.

"You wanna know the truth?"

"Yeah," Jesse settled down to sit on the bed again, laying his hands on sheets behind him and letting them take his weight, "It's something I just need to know. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Bumper and I hit it off right away," Donald took another hit like a shot of courage, "We hooked up a lot until last year. It was convenient as fuck. It didn't mean anything."

"I can't believe you slept with him," Jesse's nose scrunched, "Guess that's why he's all over you all the time. He's still trying to get with you, huh?"

Donald was done talking and thinking about Bumper. His life didn't revolve around anyone but himself and he was sick of acting otherwise. He took a long drag and held it, setting the joint in the ashtray before crawling over the firm line of Jesse's legs. He bracketed the freshman's chest with his arms, gently coaxing the petals of his lips apart to pour the smoke between them.

Jesse moaned, breathing deep and accepting everything the other had to give him. The kiss was bitter and perfect, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as the high swept through him. He cracked open his eyes and looked into Donald's face, shamelessly admiring the small cupid bow mouth and all that caramel skin.

"I want to..." Jesse bit down on the swell of his lower lip, barely able to get the words out, "Would you let me...?"

"Just ask, baby. I'll give you whatever you want," Donald murmured, dropping light kisses along the beardless skin of the younger's jaw.

Jesse loved the sound of that. He shifted his weight onto one elbow and laid a hand on Donald's clothed chest, fingers slowly trailing down until he felt warm denim. He took a shaky breath as he felt just how much the older boy wanted this.

"I want to taste you," Jesse ran his thumb over the metal button keeping his prize from him, "Is that okay?"

Who the hell said that outside a romance novel? _Enjoy you_. _Taste you_. They were friends-with-benefits and Jesse wanted to suck his cock. This wasn't a rom-com where they would go through some hilarious mistakes and bumbles together before riding off into the sunset on a moped. This wasn't romantic, this was sex. Plain, casual sex.

And he would tell Jesse all this once it stopped being so hot.

Praying the younger didn't change his mind, Donald nodded wordlessly and eased off him. The snacks were dropped to the floor and the astray was put up on a shelf above the bed. He went to remove his jeans but Jesse protested.

"I wanna take them off. You just get comfortable."

Donald swept the pillows behind him, sitting up against them and the short headboard. He had just settled down when the freshman started on his jeans, digits less than graceful as they forced the denim open and started tugging them and his underwear down. The material bunched around his thighs, restricting him. Before he could tell Jesse to just yank them off, a tongue swiped across the head of his cock.

Jesse grinned as the older boy jolted underneath him, bitter starch creeping across his taste buds. It was better than he'd thought it'd be, almost savory. The flesh was dark and plump, skin pulled taut over the sizeable length. He was uncircumcised, his first, and it sent a cheap thrill through him. The head was pink and peeking out, eager and wet for his mouth. It was enticing and for the first time in a long time he was, dare he think it, _excited_ for this part.

Donald's head thumped against the wall, eyes falling closed. The kid had skill, he hadn't been lying about that, and if he lacked there he was more than enthusiastic enough to make up for it. Jesse was flicking little kitten licks all along his aching flesh, plush mouth tasting every bit of him one inch at a time. Like he was scent marking him, rubbing out the touch of anyone else.

Jesse looked up at him and their eyes held with purpose. Cheeks flushed beautifully, the younger man dropped single kiss along the slick head of his cock. It was worshipful and slow, tongue lapping the sensitive skin until he moaned.

"Would you quit playing around?" he didn't sound as serious as he wanted, the words trailing off in a chuckle.

"I like playing," Jesse's hands trailed up his thighs, anchoring himself with a tight grip, "But if you want me to hurry..."

He could do this, Jesse lectured at himself, he could totally do this. It was just a casual blowjob with their clothes still on, nothing he hadn't done before. Well, at least the blowjob part. All the we're-not-attached stuff was new. Everyone he'd ever gone down on before had been convinced they were in love with him, or had at least acted like it. But this was Donald and he could do anything for him, including put his heart aside. For now.

Jesse let every inch fill his mouth, going as deep as he could despite the haze glazing over his mind. Every thought felt like honey dripping through him, burning out before he could really finish it. He pulled out every trick he could remember. Maybe if he was really good, Donald would keep coming back to him. He had to be at the top of his game, he had to be perfect.

It was easier said than done. He was starting to get addicted to the all-male taste, too busy trying to swallow every drop of pre-cum to consider technique.

"Damn," Donald cursed, laying his hands on the freshman's shoulders so he didn't start fucking his mouth. What was he supposed to do after this? Kick him out? God, he didn't know how he would do anything else ever again. How was he going to just stand by and let Jesse sing when all he'd want to do was fill that sweet mouth up?

Before Jesse, before he met this nice kid with raw talent, he'd never even considered watching someone suck his cock. Girl, boy, somewhere in between – it didn't matter. All he'd ever cared about was the pleasure and the rush of making someone swallow his cock. This was more. With every bob of his head, Jesse's spell over him weaved that much tighter.

He couldn't look away and he couldn't stop touching.

Jesse moaned around Donald's cock as the older boy's hand finally wrapped up in his hair, pulling it just the way he liked. Enough to make him feel it. And, in his naughtier fantasies, enough to let him pretend he wasn't in charge and had no choice. There was a fine tremble going through the darker boy's thighs and he knew he was close. Jesse whined in the soon-to-be loss. He had hoped to draw this out further, really memorize the feel and taste of the other, but they were both a little too worked up to have it last. He'd also wanted to make Donald beg but the senior wasn't giving him anything past impersonal moans that could've been from anyone.

Jesse shifted a bit and concentrated on the smooth patch of skin just below the over-sensitive head, lapping at it with a single-minded focus.

Donald found himself cupping the younger man's jaw and thumbing the hollow of his cheek. Jesse's eyes flickered open and up to him as if he'd commanded it, pupils blown out to make those doe eyes nearly pitch. The sensations crashed upon him, overwhelming him. The trust on Jesse's face, the pressure on that spot, the curl of his tongue, the way he held him - firm yet undemanding. He was giving him all this pleasure yet he _still_ didn't expect a drop in return.

Selflessly in love.

If it had been any other moment before this he would've stopped dead in horror. But now, with nothing but heat and _Jesse_ swirling around in his head, it tipped him over the edge. He could hear himself softly calling Jesse's name but he couldn't be bothered to stop, not while the boy was swallowing everything he spilled. His fingers skimmed along the younger's throat, feeling every bob from the outside. It was intoxicating but it was quickly becoming too much, sensitivity amped up on everything from his cock to the shirt rasping across his belly. They should've been naked, they should've been fucking. It had been a long time since he'd come without someone filling him up.

It almost felt wrong not to be bearing down on that perfect cock Jesse was hiding from him.

Jesse milked him as long as he could, being gentle so he didn't hurt him.

"God, Jess..."

The freshman sat up reluctantly, lapping at his lips hungrily for any spare taste, "Was that good?"

"That was fucking awesome," Donald groaned as he watched the other swipe his thumb along a wayward drop on his chin, sucking the digit into his mouth like couldn't get enough, "I think you're trying to kill me."

"Hm?" Jesse hummed, lids drooping in pleasure as he savored the taste.

"And it's working."

Jesse didn't notice the older boy pulling up his pants enough to cover his modesty.

Donald grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him up, flipping him over so their positions were reversed. He straddled him, rucking up the freshman's shirt reveal his trembling belly. It was firm and the muscle was visible, carving dips and grooves across his abdomen. Donald spread his palms and fingers across the flesh, the contrast of their skin delicious.

Jesse was already panting as he watched the older boy dip down and drag his teeth across his bellybutton. The sensation sent prickles of electricity through his groin, making him buck.

"Don't worry, baby, I've got you," Donald whispered against the waistband of his jeans, "Do you trust me?"

"Yeah, _duh_," Jesse retorted, hissing when he got a bite.

The sound held too much pain for Donald's liking and he kissed the mark he'd left, "I'm sorry, that was mean. You okay up there?"

"I am _so_ fine," he hitched in a sharp breath to fuel his ramble, his whole face flushing prettily, "God, Don, you could do anything you want to me and I'd like it. I've never liked kinky stuff, I get walked over by guys anyway I don't need them strapping me down and doing it. But you could if you wanted to. Like, silk rope or handcuffs and vibrators and those scary cock rings. Maybe not a ball gag but I'm totally okay with like a tie or something. You've got some nice ties. No hitting though. I don't wanna get hit. You can't hurt someone and make love, it sucks. But what you're doing - _that_ feels good."

Donald sucked a dark mark into the boy's hip, making sure to dig his teeth in, "Before we talk about getting you fitted for a harness, how about you let me get going down here?"

"Please, _please_, please," Jesse grinned down at him, "Can I touch your hair?"

"Kansas," Donald sighed fondly, getting up on one elbow to look the boy in the eye, "I'm still dizzy from having you suck my brain out through my dick. You can touch my hair."

Jesse buzzed in excitement as he nodded and the older boy got to work, pleased beyond belief when his pants and underwear were pulled completely off. He'd been too terrified that the beat box would change his mind to do the same. Pure liquid heat engulfed his cock, the taste of Donald's release and the act of finally getting to go down on him had already gotten him halfway there. He dared to look down and almost lost it. Donald's beautiful mouth was darker as it worked over his cock, swollen and so deliciously bite-able. Like fruit or something else juicy and yummy and - _fuck_, he was hungry now.

As if sensing his wandering mind, Donald doubled his efforts and made him cry out. The brunette was squirming and he had to hold him down, making sure to press his thumb into the bruise he'd made. Jesse finally plucked up the courage to lace his hand through the older boy's hair, silk perfection curling along his fingers.

"It's so soft," Jesse moaned, teeth digging into his lower lip, "You're so amazing. The moment I saw you I knew you were all kinds of awesome. You're pretty and good at things. I've wanted to do this forever, you're...damn it, _ah_...Don..."

Donald wanted to tell him to shut up and enjoy the _fucking_ _blowjob._ He also wanted to warn him about getting lovey-dovey, but the praise made him feel all warm around the edges. He couldn't give it up, it made him feel too good. Like he was special. Usually his partners would just go on about how good he was at sucking cock, that he was a slut or a dozen other terrible things.

He spoke like he'd still respect him in the morning.

"I-I'm-" Jesse was squirming hard beneath the solid palms on his hips, "You don't have to."

Donald pushed past his gag reflex and swallowed around the pulsing flesh, urging him to come down his throat. He wanted it more than he would ever admit.

Jesse gave a sharp cry, spilling into that talented mouth. The world flipped over on its side, head spinning pleasantly as that pure pleasure sung through him. It was brief but glorious, fading into a feeling that made him melt into sheets that smelled like moss. That cologne, that horribly expensive stuff the darker boy dabbed on himself, seemed to fade into something more forest-y after a while.

His cock gave a weak twitch within its sheath as he pictured Donald all rugged in the forest, maybe with sharp fangs and golden eyes.

Donald pulled off him carefully, lapping up the last few drops before sitting back on his haunches. He ran his hands over the younger boy's calves to help him through the last post-orgasm shivers, fine hairs tickling his palms. He licked his lips and admired the form spread out on his bed. Jesse looked so sweet with the blanket tangled in his fists, eyes half-lidded and staring at nothing in particularly. His mouth was all red and bit-up, parted to release little pants. A single dark nipple peeked out from beneath the hem of his pushed up shirt, untouched but firm from the rasp of the material. He leaned forward, palms braced on the bed so he could drop a kiss on the warm tip. He swiped his tongue across it to see how sensitive it was.

Jesse gave a dry sob, catching the edge of the sheet between his teeth in a pitiful attempt to muffle it.

Donald rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, just watching the brunette come down from his high. After a minute or so, Jesse turned his head toward him and smiled. His eyes lazily roamed down the beat box's face, seemingly studying it.

"You didn't even take your mask off," there should've been disappointment in his voice but there wasn't.

Donald frowned, "My what?"

"These," a single finger came up, tapping the edge of his glasses, "You hide behind them all the time. It's a defense mechanism, like a protective thing. I learned about it in Psychology."

Donald took them off, laying them on the low shelf beside the ashtray.

"Wow," Jesse breathed.

"_Wow_ what?" something low in his gut quivered.

"You look really good," Jesse ran his knuckle just below one dark honey colored eye, little hearts practically imprinted in his own, "I thought you were hot before, but-"

"Shut up," he went to bat the boy's hand away but ended up tangling their fingers together on the pillow between their heads, "You're high."

"And your bone structure must've been designed by aliens," the freshman countered, "Like, it's beyond human understanding and depth, it's insane. And your mouth..."

Jesse rolled closer and stole a kiss, mapping every inch of the older boy's mouth before he pulled away.

"It tastes like me," his grin was getting big and stupid like he was sleepy.

"Hope so," Donald tried to shake off the intimacy of the moment, "Were you expecting someone else?"

The younger boy's aforementioned grin slipped a little, "I hoped not."

"Jesse, don't," he huffed.

"Can I stay here?" Jesse asked suddenly, It's warm here, you're warm, and I'm really tired and kind of hungry."

Donald was about to say no but then the other seemed to struggle to keep his eyes open, lashes falling shut twice as his head sagged into the pillow. It was a cute display.

"Sure," he rolled off, "Mind if I get comfortable?"

Donald had only shed his shirt and Jesse had already wiggled out of his layers, leaving himself in pants and some sort of tank top.

"That's a girl's shirt," Donald teased.

Jesse snuffled and turned on his side, bunching the pillow up beneath his head to watch him more easily. Feeling a little more self-conscious, Donald shed his pants and socks but kept his boxers on. He clicked off the lights and shut their computers off, doe eyes following him the entire time.

"You're really handsome, did I tell you that?" Jesse worried his already sore lower lip, "If I could feel more than my stomach and my fingertips, I would do so many naughty things to you."

"Naughty?" Donald questioned, sliding under the blanket.

"Uber-naughty," he was already nodding off.

"Go to sleep before I kick you out," Donald pulled the same blanket over the freshman, starting to tuck in before he reigned himself in, "And quit talking."

The darker boy laid down on his stomach, settling himself into his favorite pillow. An arm threw itself over his back, a warm body pressed up along his side. A sheet separated him but their legs touched, almost twining.

"Get off," he grumbled.

"Donald," Jesse whined, kissing his shoulder wetly, "You're soft. Please?"

His heart fluttered, "Bed time, brat."

"Not a brat," the brunette mumbled, breath evening out against his exposed skin, "Not a kid."

"You so are."

They fell asleep like that, still arguing under their breath.

The moment he opened his eyes he knew it was way too early to even consider getting up. He intended to roll back over and go to sleep but when he went to he found Jesse still beside him. He was on his back, nipples visible from beneath his thin shirt from the cool dorm air. His face was relaxed in sleep, somehow more open than it usually was (which was difficult, the kid was an open book).

Donald half sat up, frowning as he looked down at the freshman. He was handsome, almost pretty, but there was something more to him. Some kind of light that shined through his skin and spilled out in abundance every time he smiled. Still cotton-packed and drowsy from sleep, he stroked through Jesse's ruffled up hair. He dared to run his thumb over his pink lips, too wide to be compared to a flower but still pretty.

He slowly tugged the blanket down further, showing off boxer-briefs that fit him perfectly. Donald gave one last caress to that inviting mouth before trailing his hand down to the bulge in the freshman's underwear. Morning wood was a glorious thing. Jesse snuffed cutely in his sleep, refusing to wake up even as he gave a little murmured _Don_. It was nothing short of precious.

Carefully so as not to wake him, Donald laid his head down onto he broad chest. He settled over the freshman, turning his head to put his ear over his heart. It was a steady thump under him, signifying just how real the moment was and how alive the boy in bed with him was. In time he relaxed, letting their breathing sync up until they were one. In that moment he felt like he'd never been in bed with a boy before, nervous like it was his first time waking up with someone.

A heavy hand plopped down between his shoulder blades, "I got you, baby."

_Baby_.

_Don._

Surprisingly, Donald didn't mind the nicknames. Those that had dared had been shot down quickly by him himself, but Jesse made them sound absolutely loving.

He fell back asleep like that, being reassured by his very much asleep partner.

Donald waited patiently on his bed, hands folded and tucked under his knee. Jesse was sitting at the beat box's desk with his solid, expensive headphones clamped over his ears. He was listening to one of Donald's original tracks, only given it after a solid hour of begging to hear it. It felt like mutant butterflies were bumping around in his stomach, tearing holes through it with sharp feelers. The boy was selectively impassive, keeping his face impressively blank as he listened.

Donald glanced at the computer it was playing from, it was the last minute of the song.

Jesse suddenly jumped up and started dancing in a way that reminded him of Austin Powers, all flailing limbs and _so_ very white. It was painful to watch and it made him laugh in a great burst of breath.

The headphones came off only when the song was done, the younger out of breath from his so-called 'dancing'.

"You actually like it?" he dared to ask.

"Like it?" Jesse crowded up on him, perching on his lap and dropping a kiss on his unsuspecting lips, "You're so...so..."

"Ambitious?" Donald supplied hesitantly.

"Talented," he replied bluntly, "And I'm only saying that because you make music like you kiss."

"How's that?"

Jesse brushed their lips, looking for all the world mischievous, "Well."

The fight could be heard long before it entered the living room.

Jesse stood up from the couch. He wasn't going to hide this time. If the two co-captains were going to fight he wanted to meet it head on. Donald had explained to him just the other day that the only way to communicate with Bumper most times was at the top of his lungs. Greg and Steven tried to pull him back down by his sleeves with token protests about not getting into it.

"Dude, don't, Bumper gets nasty," Steven tried to convince him softly.

Bumper came out of the hall with his arms over his head, shoes and hats bouncing off him. He came further into the living room to escape the bombardment.

"I'm not wearing the same shirt as you during the set!" Donald declared, emerging from the hall himself.

"Like, you and three others," Bumper countered, lowering his hands only when he was sure the darker man was out of ammunition, "Stop getting so upset!"

"Fuck you, I'm not wearing it," Donald spat out sharply.

"You're gonna look so good in it, baby, _please_?" he still sounded like an asshole, his words sugar coated, "What's wrong with matching?"

"No," Donald turned on his heels to head back to the room, not wanting to fight in front of most of the team, "You always want me to wear the same stupid shit as you and I'm not doing it."

"I wouldn't do it so much if I didn't love you," Bumper cooed, that sweetness souring all their mouths.

Jesse felt pure fire under his collar, fists clenching up at his sides. What the fuck did Bumper think he was doing saying that? Filthy lies spilling out of the mouth of a complete jackass. From the kitchen, Unicycle gave a low _oooo_ of warning. Before the others could make similar comments or warn Bumper to back off, Donald grabbed one of their glass plaques off the wall and chucked it as hard as he could. It shattered against the wall beside Bumper's head, their leader barely ducking away in time to miss getting a face full of glass.

The room went dead quiet. Michael ducked out; he abhorred violence.

Bumper reigned in his wide eyes, jaw setting tightly under his skin, "Are you going to clean that up?"

Donald looked like polished ice and he sounded no less, "What do you think?"

"Temper, Donny," but there was still surprise on Bumper's face as he grabbed Kolio and dragged him in front of him, "Don't want to hurt the newbie."

Donald raised his head proudly, righteous anger smoldering in his eyes behind his glass.

"Wear whatever you want," Bumper held out the shirt they'd been fighting about, a meek gesture, "I'm sorry."

Donald walked over and calmly took the shirt from his grip. Keeping his resolve, he made the trek back to his room. He didn't once meet another set of eyes in his retreat, not even Jesse's.

"Be ready to go in one hour, guys," he called over his shoulder.

Though they knew he wasn't looking, they all nodded.

The Trebles were getting ready to leave but they needed to stock up on terribly greasy burritos before they left. Jesse was running late. The rest of the boys were inside ordering, all except Bumper who had decided to linger with him in the bus.

By the third time Bumper tried to scoot up next to him, the beat box had had enough.

"Get off, man," Donald got up and started toward the front, "Jesus, we haven't even started and you're already-"

Donald snapped his mouth shut when he nearly ran into Jesse coming up the steps into he bus, innocent surprise on the brunette's face, "Oh."

He quickly recovered and punched him in the shoulder, "About time, Kansas. Damn, kid, we were gonna leave you."

Jesse gave a loud chuckle, pointing to his mouth, "See? I'm laughing because this is awkward."

The tension crept back in.

"Are you two, uh, fighting?" Jesse stole a glance at Bumper, the senior now standing with his hands on his hips like he was expecting him to do something, "I could go, I guess."

"Scram, brat, we're busy," Bumper griped.

Donald was about to tell his co-captain just where to shove it when Benji appeared from the side of the door, startling them all.

"Hi guys!" the freshman was as bright as ever.

"Uh, hi," Donald nodded politely, "What's up, man?"

"I was just wondering, since we're all going to the same place and Jesse's my room mate and we're friends," that bit made the darker boy's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "That I could, you know, ride with you. To save gas and the environment."

"Oh wow, _no_," Bumper scoffed with a sharp grin, "I don't want that little freak staining our super awesome bus with his lameness. Screw off, kid."

Benji flinched and drew back like he'd been jabbed in the ribs, "Oh. Okay. Yeah, I'll go. Sorry, stupid idea."

"Benji, wait!" Jesse tried to follow but the kid took off at a run, a little pathetic sound trailing after him. He huffed and turned back, glaring at Bumper through the bus window.

Donald lips were pursed into a fine, white line, "Jesse? Go grab some grub. We'll be done here in a minute."

"Yeah, okay," the younger grumbled, his proverbial feathers ruffled as he retreated into the restaurant. The door was closed in time for the outside world to miss the rage sweeping over the normally impassive face.

"What is your damage?" Donald demanded, going back up the steps to stand toe-to-toe with their supposed leader, "Jesse and I both want him here, I know the others wouldn't care. I don't get you, man."

"That little shit is a vibe-ruiner and you know it."

"He's just a kid, man. A sweet one, actually. He's no weirder than us when we started here," he gestured at the other, "I don't see why you won't let him ride."

"He's weird and a huge nerd," Bumper reminded him, "And, don't forget, a freshman. You're lucky I let Jesse in, he's just as geeky."

"He's in on talent," the younger could feel the vein in his temple throbbing already.

"He got in as a favor to _you_," Bumper accused with a little upturn of his nose like the whole thing disgusted him, "Because you thought his mouth was worth a fuck."

"You have no idea what he is," his teeth were cut on edge, "Do you have any idea show easy it is for him to harmonize with the other guys? Oh no, you wouldn't, because you're too busy looking at everything through shit-eating goggles."

"Oh, Donny," Bumper sighed really big, "I hate it when we fight."

"You're not even listening," Donald groaned, heading back toward the front and the stairs without looking back. Bumper was sputtering but it didn't sound like an apology so he kept going. He popped open the door and Jesse was standing there, looking a little like a kicked puppy. He'd had his ear to the door. Donald's heart dropped into his gut.

Jesse pulled off a strained smile, "We're ready to go."

"Whatever you heard out of his mouth with a lie," Donald burst out before reigning himself in, "Get on the bus."

"Don-"

"You heard me, Kansas, move your ass," Donald shouldered past him and yelled, "Whoever's not on this bus in the next two minutes in getting left behind!"

The bus ride was pretty uneventful. They road was smooth and the chatter was constant, leaving a pleasant buzz in Donald's ears. He tapped his thumbs along the steering wheel in a beat he was working on, hoping to develop it into something he could jot down and put in his new track. It was in the infancy stage but he had high hopes. Jesse had liked his last one and the buzz he got from his praise still hadn't faded.

A smile snuck onto his face.

Jesse _loved_ his work.

But of course Bumper had to ruin it by sliding in behind him, resting his jaw on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"I've heard that before," Donald tried to shrug him off, "Get your bony chin off me."

"Donald," Bumper dug his chin in harder, "I'm trying to be the bigger man here. I'm not even asking you to admit that Jesse and Benji are complete nerds."

"You need to stop pulling this leader crap. Everyone's sick of it, especially me," Donald grit his back teeth, "Trying to dress me in front of the guys? Like, really? Seriously, man?"

He remembered big, pained puppy eyes.

"And that shit about Jesse, that was not cool. He heard all that."

"Alright," Bumper conceded with a scowl, "I'll try and stop."

"Good," he finally dislodged the older boy, "Now go rally the troops or practice pitch or do anything else besides sit and breath in my ear, 'cause you're buggin' me."

Bumper made a big show of puffing before he got to his feet and trudged back to the other end of the bus.

After a few minutes of giving himself a pep talk, Jesse replaced him. He didn't rest his head on the boy's shoulder or try and show Bumper up, but his proximity could be described by an outside viewer as intimate. He moved so he was more beside the boy, dragging a low step stool out from behind the seat and planting himself on it.

"You okay?" he asked tentatively.

"That was a sick power play and everyone knows it," Donald replied with a new bite to his words, "Earlier with the shirt and that stuff he said about you getting in because of me. Total bullshit."

"I think everyone here pretty much has enough respect not to think any less of you. I really don't think you have anything to worry about."

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence. Donald's form of road rage showed itself as a car cut close in front of them, an easy beat spilling from his lips as he let off the gas and slowed way down. He seemed at ease with the large vehicle, more than capable.

Jesse took a long breath, "Did you mean what you said about my voice?"

"I, uh, I..." Donald couldn't believe that he was actually sputtering, "I don't say things that aren't fucking...you know, true."

"I know you don't like lying, but I also know you lie to me when you think I can't handle it," Jesse pointed out, "Is this another white lie?"

"No, dude," Donald felt a guilty warmth spread over his cheeks, "Just about stupid shit."

Jesse grinned, "So my voice is important?"

Donald waved a hand at him, "Wow, man, you're going to need to move over because your ego is starting to crush me face."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, I can feel it pressing. See?" Donald started to lean away, making a face, "Oh – oh – oh – _and_ smothered."

They chuckled together, ignoring the dirty looks Bumper shot at them.

"The guys love you, man, _but_," Jesse drew out for effect, "I'm pretty sure the consensus is that Bumper's a huge dick."

Donald leaned back and closer, smile tugging at his lips, "He's emulating his _actual_ dick."

Jesse's face was nothing short of scandalized, "You know the size of his junk? Donald, I'm horrified.

"It's like stupid long," he commented off-handedly, "That's probably why he acts that way."

"Gross," Jesse stuck his tongue out, "Are we talking bigger than a breadbox?"

Donald faked a startled gasp, "I've said too much."

"Is that what goes down with the Trebles? Does everyone know each other's size?" Jesse's frown was just as fake, "Sir, I don't believe I can be a part of this group if I'm required to expose myself to the rest of the boys."

"Don't worry," Donald looked to him with hooded eyes, "Just me."

"Oh good, I thought I'd be defacing my wholesome Catholic upbringing."

Feeling daring, Jesse reached out and put the back of his hand along the outside of Donald's thigh. The contact was mostly hidden by the console and their bodies but it felt forbidden, the warmth of his skin radiating through the denim.

The contact sent tingles through Donald's leg, fingers itching across the steering wheel as he fought the urge to cover it.

* * *

**Like it? Review and tell me! :)**

**And for everyone re-reading, I'm SO SORRY for all the errors. I forgot to run it through my beta first and she was horrified by all the mistakes. I went back and fixed it, it should be a smoother read.**


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